


The Memory Of You

by Mack_the_Spoon, Namarie



Series: Bloodlines [10]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, F/M, Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-09 04:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4333473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mack_the_Spoon/pseuds/Mack_the_Spoon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Namarie/pseuds/Namarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a time of quiet, the Cabal has struck, and Liz is missing. But there are more obstacles to her returning to Ressler and Red than anyone has guessed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct sequel to our story 'In Close Quarters', and it continues our 'Bloodlines' AU series. If you're interested in that series, the master list of all the stories in the proper order can be found [here](http://namarie24.livejournal.com/120242.html).
> 
> Thanks to our readers! We appreciate all of you.

~~~~~~

 

Ressler already knew she would be missing as he struggled back to consciousness. He didn't know or remember how he knew that, but when he opened his eyes and called her name, a cold feeling in his gut, he was somehow not surprised when she didn't answer. Nonetheless, he tried again, blinking in the semidarkness of the destroyed room. “Liz! Liz, can you here me? Are you all right?”

There was still no response. And now he was aware of the truly awful pain covering most of the right side of his body, from below his arm on down. He was pinned under something, some piece of what had been their house. He had no idea if he had broken any bones, or if there might even be internal bleeding. His phone was also underneath the rubble, so he couldn't even call for help.

He tried to maneuver his arms so that he could shift some of the rubble off him. But the angle was all wrong, and he couldn't get it to budge no matter how hard he tried. He was stuck. And Liz was out there, somewhere, captured by the people who had blown up their house. Whoever they were, they obviously intended something terrible for her. He had to get out, find a way to contact Reddington, and go find her.

The thought of Reddington brought him up short as he realized this attack had probably not been aimed at Liz alone. If Reddington had been targeted, as well, there was a chance Don was going to be on his own, for at least a while. He redoubled his efforts to extricate himself from the debris.

Some time later, all he had managed was to exhaust himself. Maybe he had pulled himself a few more inches out, but that could just as easily be wish fulfillment on his part. This wasn't working. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with one hand, and sighed as deeply as he could with the weight on his chest. “Sorry, Liz,” he muttered. “I'm trying.”

He must have dozed off, or blacked out, for some time, because he was roused by the sound of someone approaching. _Donald! I feared you hadn't made it. Where are you?_

It was Reddington, of course. He didn't sound injured. “Over here,” he tried to call out, but coughed instead of managing much volume. At least he didn't taste any blood. His lungs probably weren't punctured, though they weren't comfortable, either. “Liz. She's missing.”

_I know,_ said her father. _Believe me, I have every possible contact on alert for any intel on where she may be. And I will be investigating personally, as soon as I know where to start. In the meantime, we need to get you out of there._ There was a pause, and then he heard, _What do you think, Dembe? Will the remaining structure hold if I shift the rubble that's currently trapping Ressler?_

Oh. He was in dragon form, of course. That made sense, Ressler supposed. And though he thought he heard Dembe's voice responding, he couldn't make out what the man was saying. But a few seconds later, he could hear what sounded like large items being moved, hesitant at first and then with more purpose. It was only a minute or so later that the weight on his body was carefully removed, and he was staring up at the impossibly huge red dragon who was Liz's father.

_Can you move?_ he asked.

Dembe came over before Ressler could try, and offered him a hand. To his relief, he could move, although when he tried to put weight on his right knee, it buckled and Dembe had to catch him. He swore, and put his leg down again more carefully, without putting weight on it.

_You'll need x-rays to see the extent of the damage,_ Red remarked. He watched until the two of them had made their halting way out of the ruins of the house, and then became human. “If you're not in too much pain, on our way to the hospital you can tell me what you remember.”

“I'm fine,” Don replied, clenching his jaw as Dembe helped him the rest of the way to the waiting SUV. “The knee is definitely the worst of it.” He could tell he had a number of other injuries, but none of them hurt anywhere near as much. Maybe he had twisted it as he fell – or it had somehow gotten the brunt of the falling debris. His head ached, too, and he hoped he hadn't gotten yet another concussion.

“'Fine' is undoubtedly an overstatement,” said Reddington, but he didn't push.

As they drove away, Don turned to watch what had been his and Liz's house fade into the distance. It hadn't been perfect. The building itself hadn't even been that remarkable. But after five months, it had been home.

He sighed, and turned back to meet Reddington's gaze. “I wish I had more details,” he said. “We didn't hear a car, so I guess whoever they were, they must have parked somewhere else and walked. Liz noticed them before I did, obviously.” He swallowed, getting a flash of her terrified face when the explosion had hit. “She told me...” He closed his eyes for a second, doing his best to recall. “She said there were maybe five people. And she could tell they weren't just coming by to say 'hi.'”

Reddington nodded grimly. “And do you know what weapon was used to destroy your house?”

Ressler shook his head. “I don't know for sure, but considering it hit just as we realized we were in danger, before we could do anything about it, I'm guessing it was some kind of missile.”

“That would be what I expected, based on the weapon that destroyed my place of residence six hours ago,” said Reddington.

“And you weren't hurt?”

“I happened to be in the most structurally sound room in the house, with Dembe,” Reddington said. “We were shaken, but escaped with cuts and bruises. Our location was a good deal closer to emergency response than yours, so evidently the would-be assassins decided to leave quickly even though they weren't successful.”

Don nodded. “This sounds like a coordinated attack, then. Are we thinking this is the Cabal?”

Reddington didn't speak immediately. His gaze unfocused, and Ressler thought he was probably trying to find Liz. His grim expression grew even darker as he looked at Ressler again. “Yes, that would be my guess.”

Ressler leaned back against his seat. “I knew it was unrealistic, but I'd hoped we might have done enough to stop them.”

“Even if this particular attack turns out to have nothing to do with them, after all, let me assure you that there's still plenty to be done,” was Reddington's response.

“Fantastic,” Ressler grumbled.

It wasn't just the effects of his injuries that kept him from focusing completely on what the nurses and doctor said when he arrived at the nearest hospital (which was more like an urgent care facility). He could feel the small, hard-cased box in the left front pocket of his jeans. No doubt there was a bruise on his leg from it being pressed against him, but all he cared about for the moment was that if it hadn't been on his person, most likely it would have been lost. Now, of course, instead of the plans he had made, he didn't even know when he'd see Liz again, much less be able to finally ask her to marry him.

He refused to think the phrase “ _if_ he saw Liz again”. That wasn't an option.

Either way, he did his best to answer the questions he was asked. Besides extensive bruising, including several bruised ribs, the x-ray revealed that his knee was severely sprained. This was in addition to the minor concussion (of course). The doctor recommended rest, which was going to be difficult if not impossible for him to do.

But he just nodded and went along with it, for the time being. He even allowed Mr. Kaplan to escort him out of the hospital in a wheelchair. Unfortunately, he had managed to completely forget to mention a crucial part of his medical history. It wasn't until Reddington's lieutenant asked him what the doctor had prescribed for pain medicine that he realized the prescription was for Vicodin.

“I can't take this,” Ressler informed the woman tightly. He rubbed a hand across his face. “But I don't want to waste time trying to get the doctor to give me something else.”

“Wait here,” she said, taking his prescription and heading back toward the examination room.

Hardly had he started to wonder what, exactly, she expected from him when she returned. “Here,” she announced, handing him another sheet of paper. “Non-opioid anti-inflammatory plus pain reliever.” She paid for the medication, too, in spite of his protests that he could handle it. “You can take it up with Mr. Reddington. I was told to take care of you.”

This interaction was emblematic of how the next week went for Ressler. Reddington had him brought to the house where he was staying, on New Zealand's South Island. And Reddington's people helped him through his recovery, though he was uncomfortable with their solicitous care (especially since several of them were people he had never met).

“Don't be ridiculous, Donald,” Reddington said, the few times Ressler attempted to say anything on the subject. “Even if you weren't second-in-command of Elizabeth's organization, it would still be in my best interests to see you get well. She would hardly be happy with me if I allowed the man who is her partner and her mate to suffer through this alone.”

That word again – 'mate' – gave him pause, as it always did. Only dragons, or those related to them, ever seemed to use it. Liz herself, he thought, was uncomfortable with it, too. But it evidently applied to the two of them. Still, he found himself hoping that if he and Liz did get married, even dragons might be persuaded to use 'husband' and 'wife' instead. Hopefully that would cover whatever else was covered by the more unusual term.

Either way, at least this situation meant that he was involved in the search for intel on Liz. Reddington had confirmed that she had been taken, alive, out of the country – possibly to Asia. Neither he nor Don had received a ransom demand. Hardly any more information seemed to be forthcoming, however, and Don knew that he was not the only one there who was fighting not to lose hope after that week without anything of substance turning up. The fact that he was able to walk with crutches instead of using a wheelchair by that point didn't cheer him up a great deal.

They also had to stay on the move for their own safety, since searching for Liz didn't mean they weren't still being hunted. It was a balance between staying out of sight of any law enforcement, while trying to be visible to anyone who might contact them with anything like a ransom demand. At least, as the days continued to pass without much in the way of leads, Don's injuries healed enough for him to truly participate in the process of following up on what they did find out.

In a hotel in Indonesia, two weeks after Liz had gone missing, he decided he had to ask the question he'd feared to even think. It was time. This was not a conversation he could picture having in a place that was even close to public, so he made his slow, careful way to the door of Reddington's suite, and knocked.

Dembe opened the door, but the dragon was standing just a yard or so behind him. “What is it, Donald?”

“I need to talk to you,” he said. “I realize it's getting late.” It wasn't like Don had been getting much sleep since his house was destroyed and Liz was kidnapped, anyway. And judging by Reddington's appearance and moods, he hadn't been, either.

Reddington nodded, and silently gestured for him to come in. “Sit, please,” he invited. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Ressler said. He'd need it, to be able to get through this conversation. He accepted the glass of Scotch and took a sip. Then he waited for his host to sit down before speaking. “I didn't want to ask this. I'm not sure I want to know the answer.”

Reddington raised his eyebrows. “This is something to do with Lizzie.”

It was Ressler's turn to nod. He took another drink, focusing on the burn as the liquid went down, until he knew he could say the words without his voice trembling. “Would you know? Could you tell, if she was dead?”

Reddington's lips tightened, and then he drained his own glass. He didn't speak for a full minute, but stared into the glass with an expression that grew more haunted as the time passed. “I've asked myself that question a hundred times since the day she was taken,” he finally said. “And I'm afraid you won't like the answer, though the reason might be different than what you were expecting.”

Don swallowed, his heart rate increasing. “What are you saying?”

“The reason I've had to repeatedly ask myself whether I would know if my daughter was dead,” said Reddington, with evident effort, “is that I still don't know the answer. Sometimes I think I can sense her, but she must be too far away for any meaningful contact whatsoever.” He paused again. “I choose to believe that I would know, and thus, though I have yet to be able to track her, that this might in some small way be a good sign: I haven't felt anything, which means she must still be alive.”

Ressler drank the rest of his Scotch. He realized his hands were shaking, and set down the tumbler quickly. He tried his best to breathe, instead of letting the panic take hold. “Okay.” He wanted to rage, to demand why those remarkable draconic gifts Reddington and Liz had were letting them down now, when they were most vital. But he knew that would be pointless, and even cruel. “But if... if you ever do feel... you'd have to be the first to know. Just don't make me wait, either.”

Now Reddington's expression stilled, and his eyes glittered. If Ressler hadn't known he wasn't the object of the man's ire, the sight would have been enough to make his blood run cold. He was kidding himself if he pretended it didn't, anyway. “Donald, if that day comes, you'll know. Everyone will know.”

Swallowing again, Ressler took another deep breath, and then stood. He felt like he probably should, but he just wasn't going to stop himself from saying, “Good.”

~~~~~~

It was only two days after that conversation that, for a heart-stopping moment, Ressler thought the terrible moment had come after all. He was awakened suddenly, early in the morning, by something he couldn't immediately identify. But his pulse was racing, and a sense of dread settled over him as soon as he was conscious. Then, just as suddenly, the feeling vanished – which reminded him of a few interactions he'd had over the years with Liz's telepathy. Except that hadn't been Liz, he was sure.

Which meant it had to have been Reddington. Don choked, and threw on some clothes. His hands were shaking again. He had never known the dragon to broadcast his feelings freely. That spoke to a dramatic loss of control, as temporary as it had been.

Just as he was making sure he had at least found clean clothes to put on, there was a knock at his door. “Ressler?” he heard Dembe's voice. “Raymond would like to speak to you in his room. He has news.”

Surely it couldn't be the absolute worst case, or Dembe would sound more upset. Right? Getting a hold of himself as best as he could, Don opened the door. “What kind of news?”

If the other man was surprised that Don was already ready, he didn't show it. “He hasn't said yet. But I know it is neither good, nor the very worst news.”

Ressler clenched his hands into fists at his side. He nodded.

Reddington was sitting on the couch where their earlier discussion had taken place. He had a folder in his lap, and he was staring at it as if his gaze could light it on fire. “I assume your previous request not to be spared hearing bad news applies even to news apart from the specific tidings that we were talking about.” His voice was low and tense.

Ressler nodded again, not trusting himself to speak.

“These are pictures I received not thirty minutes ago. As you'll see, they purport to be taken not long after she disappeared,” Reddington replied, handing them to Ressler.

Don took a deep breath and opened the folder. He was instantly glad he had sat down before seeing this. There were three pictures, and each showed Liz. She was chained by both arms to the wall of a dark room, gagged, and with an expression of absolute despair on her face. Her hair looked damp, clinging to the side of her head. Her clothes were dirty. There was what could be a small smear of blood on her temple, but other than that, he couldn't easily see any signs of injury. Her face, though... that was not posed.

“You have someone who can find out where these were taken?” he ground out, surprised by the evenness of his own voice.

“Dembe?” Reddington said, and the other man took the folder from Ressler, looking stricken as he saw the pictures. He disappeared into the hall, presumably to take them to whoever would analyze them.

Ressler seized onto the one fact that was somewhat comforting. “If those pictures are real, they didn't kill her. They wouldn't bother to send them if...”

“Yes,” said Reddington. “The messenger who brought this package is being held, as well.”

Ressler ran a hand over his face. A thought hit him, and he wondered how it hadn't occurred to him sooner. “I'm going to contact Samar. I'm bringing her in on this.”

It was Reddington's turn to nod. “Good. You won't have to remind her to be discreet in getting here, I'm sure.”

Don went back to his room and took out the laptop he'd been provided. From his phone, he found the email address that she'd given him before she left. Once he'd opened one of the anonymous email accounts he now had, he typed in Samar's address. The body of the message was short and to the point:

_She's missing. This is the start of the third week. I'll send you coordinates for our base._

Since his email didn't include any form of his name, he signed it with the code the two of them had agreed on. Then he pressed send. He didn't know where she was, but the code was to be used only in emergency. Hopefully she would see it soon.

Before he could close the computer and think about taking a quick shower to be ready for the day, he saw a message appear in his inbox. The sender wasn't the same address he'd used, but the text of the message read:

_I'll be there in six hours._ And she'd used the agreed-on countersign, as well. Ressler blew out a breath. This was good. It would be good to have Samar working on this, too – and quite frankly, he was pretty sure part of that was just the relief it would be to have someone else with him whose loyalty to Liz was not because of Reddington. Not that he didn't trust that many of Reddington's people genuinely wanted to find Liz, but most of them didn't even know her.

Ressler sent the coordinates as a reply, and then shut the computer. As he ran down his next possible options, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. Terrible and infuriating as the pictures were, they were a clue. And perhaps it was overly optimistic, but with Samar on the way, he also felt like they had a better chance of finding Liz before anything even worse happened.


	2. Chapter 2

~~

Her head ached. That was the first thing that she noticed. The next thing was the heat and humidity of wherever she was. The heat didn't feel too bad to her, although she was thirsty, and the humidity was worse than she was expecting. She opened her eyes.

In front of her was the slope of a green, grassy hill. Maybe an embankment, actually. She thought she heard the sound of vehicles driving past from above her. Not a lot of vehicles – it must not be that busy of a road. And above her... She blinked. Were those palm trees?

With a half-stifled cry, she sat up, ignoring the headache for the moment, and looked around her. Nothing looked familiar. She was, in fact, at the bottom of an embankment, next to a four-lane divided highway. The trees were all either palm trees or other varieties that indicated she was somewhere tropical. Even the air smelled very different from what she was used to, and the grass she was sitting on didn't feel or smell normal. Everything felt strange. She tried to breathe deeply, and grimaced. Even she herself felt strange. Beyond the sharp pain in her ribs that suggested some of them were bruised or fractured, and the continued throbbing of her head, there was something weird about how she felt, just sitting there. Like she was full of wild, barely-controlled energy or power, making her strangely uncomfortable in her own skin.

She rubbed her hands against the legs of her jeans, wincing at the discovery that she had several tiny cuts on her fingers and palms. There were bruises on her wrists, as well. She caught sight of the scar on her right palm and wrist, and was surprised for a second. Then she shook her head slowly. It shouldn't have been a surprise to see the scar. She knew it was there. It had been part of who she was for most of her life. She knew that, as well as she knew her own name.

That was when she felt a jolt of pure terror. Did she know her name? Every time she tried to say it to herself, it was like it was on the tip of her tongue, but then it just faded away. Frantically, she felt around in her pockets, but came up empty – or almost empty. There was one small piece of paper in her back pocket. She pulled it out. It was half of a receipt for a restaurant. Kelly's. A bar, she thought. Yes, that sounded right. She looked at it more closely. The paper was faded and the ink worn away in places. Still, it wasn't illegible. The part of the receipt in her pocket was for two drinks and two burgers. She had been with someone, she recalled suddenly, when she had gotten this receipt. There was a flash of this person: his smile, his relaxed attitude, which wasn't something she always got to witness. Because they worked together, and their job wasn't easy. Then the flash of memory started to fade. Before it left her mind entirely, though, she heard an echo of his voice: “Liz.”

Liz. That was her name. She sighed in relief, and thanked the still-nameless man for that. Elizabeth. That felt right. And at least one person – this man she knew she cared about and ought to remember – called her Liz. Liz tried to summon up any more information: a last name, a hometown, any further details about her job. Nothing came, except a stronger headache. She groaned and put her hand to her left temple. It came away sticky with blood.

Before she could do more than stare at the red smear on her hand, she heard a noise approaching. Not a car – something else. Part of her wanted to stand up and try to catch the attention of whoever it was, but part of her was suddenly terrified. She needed to get away from here. She was too exposed here. They could find her.

Liz struggled to her feet, nearly falling again when the headache tightened its grip. She staggered further away from the road. Somehow she made it over a small rise in the ground and back down to the other side. Whatever had made the noise didn't stop. They must not have seen her. Liz sighed in relief. She was too exhausted to go any further, but at least there was a tree a few feet away. She could make use of the shade. She took off her light jacket (totally unnecessary in this climate), balled it up, and put it on the ground under the tree. Then she lay her head down on it, avoiding the wounded areas as best she could. She was asleep minutes later.

~  
A dog barking woke her. The animal was getting closer and closer, and it sounded distinctly aggressive. Liz sat up hastily, only then recalling her head injury. Groaning, she tried to focus even with the pounding ache. The dog – a big but fairly skinny thing with one torn ear, was rushing toward her from the direction of the road. Liz faced it, still leaning against the tree, and waited. For some reason she wasn't overly worried.

Sure enough, when it was within a few yards of her, the dog stopped so suddenly it almost fell over. It picked itself up, whined, and backed away a few steps. Then it looked over its shoulder and whined again.

That was when Liz heard the sounds of someone coming from the same direction. It was a woman, and she was shouting in irritation – but not in a language Liz understood at all. Oddly, that was reassuring to her. Whoever this was, Liz knew then, this woman probably wasn't one of the people who had done this to her. Brought her here.

Liz stayed where she was, aware that she was probably a fairly pathetic sight right now. When the dog's owner came into view, she, too, stopped short at the sight of Liz. The short, black-haired woman stared in shocked silence for several seconds. Then she patted the dog absently on its shoulder before stepping closer and saying something that was clearly a question, in a worried-sounding voice.

“I'm sorry,” Liz said, in a hoarse voice that startled her to hear. “I-- I don't speak your language.”

The woman raised her eyebrows and muttered something, then shook her head. She took another step closer, gesturing toward Liz's head. “You … help?”

“Yes, I need help,” Liz said. “I'm hurt.” She pointed to the injury on her head.

Nodding, the woman said something in her language and then spoke sharply to the dog. The dog whined again, wagged its tail, and sat. Then the woman came forward and held out her hand. Liz got to her feet, but this time she would have fallen if the woman hadn't caught her. She made sympathetic sounds as Liz leaned on her until she regained her balance. The woman bent down and picked up Liz's jacket for her, still managing to hold her upright in the meantime. Then she gestured for them to move forward.

Slowly, painstakingly, the two of them made their way up toward the road. The dog followed at a distance. Liz's head was really starting to kill her, but she knew this woman wouldn't be able to help her if she didn't go with her. When they made it up the side of the embankment to the road, Liz stopped moving to stare at what must have been the woman's mode of transportation.

It was a little cart attached to the side of a motorcycle, like an extra-large sidecar, with a large umbrella over the whole thing. The cart looked like it might be some kind of mobile vendor's stand, though Liz couldn't tell what kind of food would be sold from it. The motorcycle was small but well-maintained, and there was a helmet hanging on the handlebar.

“You … go on,” said the woman, pointing to the motorcycle. “I help.”

If she hadn't been so exhausted and in pain, Liz would have laughed, trying to imagine this. But instead she just allowed herself to be led to the bike. It was clear the woman wanted to give Liz the helmet, but she was concerned with hurting Liz any further. Liz gestured to her. “You take it.”

The woman accepted this. She tried to help Liz mount first, but Liz was too unsteady to balance on the vehicle without handlebars or anyone to lean against. So the woman got on, and gestured for Liz to sit behind her. Once Liz was on the seat, surprisingly not so far back that she felt like she might slide off, the woman pulled Liz's arms around her middle. “Hold,” she commanded. She spoke a sharp word to the dog, which jumped onto the metal base of the cart portion of the contraption and lay down.

In that fashion, with Liz leaning against her rescuer more than was probably comfortable, they made their slow but steady way along the road. Liz was so tired that she found herself almost nodding off a few times, especially as it began to get dark. But she tried her best to stay awake. Nothing she saw around her looked familiar. She couldn't read the smaller road signs they passed, though some of them had English writing on them. Maybe they were town names, but she certainly didn't recognize them if so.

Eventually, they pulled off the road onto a side street that was so old and cracked that it was almost gravel. The vibrations created by driving over this surface were far from welcome for Liz. She shut her eyes. She could almost feel her driver's sympathy and worry.

At last, the vehicle came to a stop and Liz opened her eyes again. They had arrived at a house that had a second story that was partially on stilts. There was a round table with bench seats under the part that extended out on the stilts, and a hammock stretched between two of the pillars. Despite the noise of the motorcycle approaching, and the dog barking as it jumped off and ran up to him, the man who was in the hammock didn't open his eyes until the woman called out to him.

With an audible snort, the man sat up, then stared at Liz. His eyes widened and he said something loudly and rapidly to the woman (his wife, Liz guessed). But when his wife replied, he came forward and smiled at Liz. Evidently he spoke even less English than his wife, because he only mimed Liz getting down off the bike. He let her hold onto his arm as she did so. Then the two of them supported her, leading her to a round rattan chair with a back that Liz hadn't seen, past the table. She sank into it gratefully, even though it wasn't the most comfortable thing she'd ever sat in.

The man had disappeared in the few seconds her eyes were closed. The woman waited until Liz met her gaze, then smiled and said, “I help,” before turning to go toward the stairs.

Liz sat still while her host and hostess busied themselves in the house above her. She could hear them rushing around. Wherever she was, she thought through her continuing headache, at least the people seemed nice.

A minute or so later, the man came back holding a glass of water with ice. He handed it to Liz with another smile, and she accepted it gratefully. The water was cold and deliciously refreshing. She had already drunk most of it when the woman reappeared. She was carrying a plastic bowl of water and a clean cloth. She pulled a plastic chair over from somewhere and sat down in front of Liz. “For you head,” she said, dipping the cloth in the bowl.

Liz nodded and turned her head so that the woman could access it better. It stung at first, when the wet cloth came in contact with the wound, but she kept herself from flinching.

As she worked, the woman kept up a quiet commentary – to herself, Liz assumed – in that language Liz didn't understand. Then she stopped, pulled back slightly to meet Liz's eyes, and said, “You name?”

It took Liz a second to get what the woman wanted. “Oh. My name? My name is Elizabeth. Liz.”

“Liz,” the woman repeated, her accent making the final sound into a soft 's' and almost not there at all. She smiled and pointed to herself. “Fon.”

“Your name is Fon?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding.

“Nice to meet you, Fon,” said Liz, smiling in turn. “And thank you, for helping me.”

Fon beamed. Then she returned to her task for a few more minutes, before pulling out a large bandaid and carefully applying it to Liz's temple. She gave Liz a thumbs-up. “Good.”

“Thank you,” Liz repeated. Her head still ached, but it was nice to know the injury no longer looked like a mess as she assumed it had.

“Head hurt, no?” Fon asked then.

Liz sighed and leaned back. “Yes. A lot.”

Fon turned around and spoke to her husband. Then she took out a bottle of pills and opened the lid. “Para,” she said, and held it out to Liz while her husband refilled Liz's glass.

“I don't--” Liz started to say, but then she brought the bottle closer and saw the word “paracetamol” in tiny letters under some words in a script that she couldn't read. That was a generic equivalent of Tylenol, she was pretty sure. It also said “500 mg” on the back. She shook out two pills and swallowed them with several mouthfuls of water. She really probably needed to go to a hospital, since she had to have a concussion, but this would help in the meantime. “Thanks,” she said again.

Fon took the pill bottle back and said something in her language. Then she opened her mouth, shut it again, and looked mildly frustrated. “You no speak Thai?”

Thai? Liz blinked. How the hell had she ended up in Thailand? She might not know where she was from, but she knew it wasn't anywhere near Thailand. “Sorry, no.”

Fon was quiet for a while. She appeared deep in thought. Then her husband said something, and Fon turned to look at him. It was almost dark now, but the light on the front stairs was bright enough to see Fon's pleased smile. “Okay,” she said, and pulled out a phone. She dialed a number, then began speaking rapid Thai to whoever was on the other end. A few minutes later, she handed the phone to Liz. “My son,” she said. “Speak English.”

The painkiller had only just taken the edge off her headache. Liz took the phone and hoped she would be able to carry on a coherent conversation. “Hello.”

“Hello, sawatdee khap,” said a young man's voice. “You are Liz, the foreigner woman my mother found?”

“Yes.” Liz took another sip of water. The guy's English was still accented, but he seemed pretty fluent. “Your mother and father have been very kind to me.”

“Good,” the young man said. “My mother's English is not so good, but she says you have a head injury and you were all alone by the side of the road.”

“Yes,” Liz confirmed. She took a shaky breath. “I-- I don't know how I got there. I don't remember.”

She heard him inhale sharply. “Oh. Damn. You don't remember? Because you hit your head?”

“That must be why,” she said. “I know I'm from – somewhere far away. But that's all I know.”

“You sound like you're from America,” he said after a pause. “Does that seem right?”

Smiling faintly, Liz said, “It does. Thank you.”

“No problem,” he replied. “But it sounds like you should go to a hospital. My parents don't have a car, but I do. I can be there in twenty minutes.”

Liz blinked back sudden tears. This family knew next to nothing about her, and they were being so generous. “Thank you. I don't have anything with me – I can't repay you.”

“No problem,” he repeated. It sounded like he was smiling. “As my mother would say, it's good karma to help people who need it. Besides, I will have a good excuse to take a day off from work tomorrow. Can you put her back on the phone please?”

“Yeah.”

The woman talked with her son for a few more minutes, then ended the call. “He come soon,” she said to Liz, and patted her knee. “Can sleep.”

She had, in fact, fallen asleep by the time there was the sound of a car coming up the gravel path. The dog barked and ran to greet the new arrival, who Liz couldn't really see from here. She sat up slightly, noting that her hosts had covered her with a light blanket. Her head felt a little better.

The car door opened. The family greeted each other in Thai, and then a voice called, “Hello? Liz?”

“I'm over here,” she answered.

“Hello,” the guy repeated, coming closer. He said a few more words to his father in a faintly annoyed tone, then flipped a switch to turn on another outside light. This one was on the front of the area on stilts under which Liz was sitting. The light revealed a man who looked to be about Liz's age, in a nice collared blouse and slacks. His car, behind him, looked nearly new. He came over and shook Liz's hand. “My name is Kham,” he said with a smile. “That is a nickname, really, but my real name is so long no one uses it.”

Liz smiled. “Almost nobody calls me 'Elizabeth', either.” Then her smile faded. There was someone who called her something other than Liz, though … but the memory vanished before she could hold onto it.

“You okay?” Kham asked, seeing her distress.

“Just trying to remember something,” she replied.

Kham and his parents helped Liz walk to the car and get into the front seat. It was on the other side of the car from what she was expecting – but at least that wasn't related to her amnesia. She was in Thailand. That was how the cars were built. The dog, meanwhile, was pacing around the car, whining and occasionally growling.

Before she shut her door, Liz thanked both Fon and her husband again. They bowed a little and smiled.

“I can teach you how to say thank you in Thai,” said Kham as he started the car and turned it around to leave. “It is not too hard – but I will wait until your head doesn't hurt so much.”

Liz laughed. “Yeah, that's probably a better idea.” She was still having some trouble composing thoughts and words in her own native language, so trying to learn even a few words of another language was not likely to happen.

They turned out of the narrow lane onto the main road. Kham had the air conditioning on full blast; Liz thought she should like the cooler air, but it wasn't as comfortable as she wanted it to be. Kham saw her shiver and asked in mild surprise if she wanted the A/C less strong. She nodded gratefully.

They drove in silence for a little while. “How long will it take to get to the hospital?” Liz asked eventually.

“I'm taking you to the best hospital that is close,” the man answered. “It's in Khon Kaen, which is a big city about twenty minutes away. They have good doctors there, and many of them speak good English.”

“Thank you. That sounds good.” The mention of time had made her think of something else, though. “What day is it, Kham?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You really did forget a lot, huh?” At her wry smile, he went on, “It's May 26. Tuesday. Does that help?”

Liz considered this information. She tried to think back to the last day she remembered, but there was nothing. “Not really,” she confessed. “But it's good to know, anyway.”

Kham told her a little bit about his job (he did tech support for a number of local companies) while they drove. He also told her a few things about this part of Thailand, though he was careful not to overload her with information she might not be able to absorb at the moment. Liz did learn that this northeast area of the country was called Isaan, and that it was the least-populated, poorest part of the country. The vast majority of its inhabitants were still rice farmers, and many of them were historically descended from Lao people. The language reflected this. “I learned to speak Central Thai in school,” Kham said. “The Thai my parents speak, it's not good Thai.”

Liz was interested enough to learn about where she was – it helped her not feel totally lost and tetherless – but this information did make her wonder even more how the hell she had ended up by the side of a road here. Not only was she in Thailand, she was in a part of Thailand that foreigners rarely saw, according to Kham. “Most tourists, they come to Bangkok or Chiang Mai, or the beaches down south,” he said.

When they reached the hospital, Liz found to her dismay that, although it wasn't terribly busy, the chaos of lights, a lot of people speaking a language she didn't know, and sounds of a reasonably full waiting room all brought her headache rushing back. On top of that, she felt an anxiety (not to say fear) building in the back of her mind. She knew she needed medical attention. Head injuries weren't something you could just ignore. But at the same time, she was beginning to fear that they would find her here. She sat in the plastic-covered seat Kham had directed her to and watched him talk to the woman behind the reception desk. It was absurd. She didn't even know who 'they' were, what danger she might be in. But that didn't lessen her fear. In fact, totally unknown enemies made the fear worse. She told herself to breathe slowly and deeply. There was no reason to be suspicious of her friend, the kind man who had brought her here, just because she had no way of knowing what he was telling the hospital staff. Right?

Sighing, Liz stared down at her hands in her lap. It didn't help her paranoia to have observed that she was being stared at and talked about. She was the only foreigner in the room, aside from an older gentleman who looked like he was here with his younger Thai wife. Liz wished desperately that she could at least be sure Kham was trustworthy – that he was only doing all this because he wanted to help.

Kham returned from the front desk at that moment. “They will take you back to get a, uh – scan? Yeah, a scan of your head. In ten minutes,” he said. He sat down next to her. She must not have been doing a great job of hiding her worry, because he looked at her more closely and asked, “Liz, are you okay?”

“I'm all right,” she said, trying to smile. She was still meeting his gaze. He seemed so genuine, but something told her she had been fooled before. If only she could be sure...

All of a sudden, it was like she was looking directly into Kham's mind, into his thoughts and memories. She saw his recent break-up, and how he was afraid to tell his parents about it. She saw his pity for the poor, beautiful foreign woman as well as confusion as to how she had shown up here, and she saw his secret desire that she might be won over by his kindness and decide to stay. After all, his parents couldn't disapprove of a foreigner, especially if she turned out to be rich once her memory came back. And there was more to see if she kept looking.

Liz gasped and withdrew, turning away from him quickly. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure someone would be able to hear. How the hell had she done that? It didn't make any sense. She glanced back at Kham, and was even more bewildered when he seemed fine. He was leaning back in his seat, looking around the waiting area with an air of patience. Could it be he was utterly unaware that she had just … invaded his mind?

Liz had only barely begun to calm down when the nurse called out some words in Thai and then the name Elizabeth, in a strong accent. Kham stood up, giving her an encouraging smile. “That's us.”

“You're coming with me?”

“Of course,” he said. “Even though they speak good English here, I would not want to leave you by yourself in a strange place.”

This time her smile was genuine. Even with what she had just learned about his motivations, Kham still seemed like an overall good guy.

The procedure for getting a CT scan was familiar to Liz overall for some reason, though not exactly how she expected it since she was in a foreign country. The scan revealed that she did, in fact, have a moderate concussion. The uniformed Thai nurses sent for a doctor at this. After the scan, nurses took her behind a privacy screen to give her a brief physical exam as well. Liz was as horrified as they were at the array of bruises on her torso and arms, as well as the dried blood in some places under her shirt and the fact that she could see her ribs. She was also alarmed at the obvious bullet scar on her right shoulder. It must have been fairly recent, based on how it looked, but she didn't remember anything about the events surrounding getting shot. The faint scar along the base of her neck disturbed her less, though she wished she knew what had caused that one, too. The nurses asked her if she was in pain, and she told them about her suspicion that she had fractured ribs. An x-ray was next up.

“Three bruised ribs, and one fractured,” said the doctor, who had introduced herself with a multi-syllable last name that Liz hadn't quite gotten. The woman frowned. “Of course it makes sense that you would have some amnesia, with a concussion like you have, but are you sure you can't remember anything about who or what gave you these bruises?”

Liz shook her head, then winced. “No,” she said quietly. She had tried to think back, but there was nothing.

“Well, best treatment for both your major injuries is bed rest,” the woman said. “We can admit you overnight if you want, or Mr. Kham can take you back to his house.”

Liz looked over at Kham, who was standing in the corner of the room. She was about to reply when the doctor continued, “But first, I'm going to have the police come and take a report from you. I know you can't remember much, but maybe they can search nearby and find some evidence to help you.”

Liz's immediate reaction to this was terror. Talking to the police was a bad idea, a very bad one. But even as she wondered at her certainty about this, she managed not to show her fear too much, she thought. “So I need to stay, at least until the police come,” she said.

“Yes, that would be good,” said the doctor. “I'll call them now.”

Once the doctor had left the room, Liz turned to one of the nurses. “Where's the bathroom?”

She was directed down the hall – as luck would have it, on the way to an exit. Liz made herself walk purposefully but not too quickly out of the building. Her head still ached, and she knew she couldn't get far in this condition. But she went as fast as she could to the far edge of the huge complex's parking lot. No one was following her, as far as she could tell. It was busy enough, even at this time of night, that she didn't attract a whole lot of extra attention from those who saw her.

It wasn't until she had made it away from the hospital, onto a side street, that the reality of what was happening crashed down over her. She was alone, injured, in a strange city in Thailand, at night. She didn't speak a word of Thai. She had no money, not even US dollars. And apparently, according to what little she could-- remember wasn't even the right word, but it was something to do with her memory … according to her instincts, there was someone or a group of someones after her. Maybe the people who had caused her to end up concussed, by the side of a road in semi-rural Thailand.

Fighting back tears, Liz leaned against the wall of the nearest building and took in some shallow breaths. She might not be able to recall almost anything of her past right now, but she was pretty sure she'd never been quite this lost. Even if she used her bizarre ability that she had discovered when she saw into Kham's mind, she had very little idea of what to do next. Except, ideally, find a place to sleep that was relatively safe. She supposed if she had to sleep outside in this climate, that might be okay – other than how vulnerable she would be.

A group of young men walked past the side street where she was standing, and they all stopped for a moment to stare at her. But when she met their gazes directly, they laughed and kept moving. It was a good reminder that she was vulnerable to other things – not just this enemy who might be hunting her. As if to drive home the point, her stomach growled. She had no idea, of course, how long it had been since she'd eaten.

Liz sighed and took a moment to finger-comb her hair. She'd had a chance to look at herself in a mirror at the hospital; all things considered, she didn't look too bad. (Also, she had been glad to find that her own face was familiar to her.) So she wouldn't attract attention for any additional reasons, other than the fact that she was a foreigner by herself in a part of Thailand that evidently didn't see that many tourists.

As she reentered the flow of foot traffic on the main street, Liz saw a 7-11 up ahead. There were ATMs out front, and there was a man just turning away from one of them, putting a large wad of bills into his wallet. It came over Liz suddenly that she had a way she could get some cash – a skill she could put to use. She thought it might have been a while since she had used it, but it was still there. And the idea of relieving someone of some of their money only bothered her a little bit in these circumstances. It was self-preservation. She had no one to turn to. It was up to her.

Once again acting like she knew where she was going, but this time in no hurry to get there, Liz walked past the man on his way to his motorcycle. She looked the other way, ostensibly watching a kind of noisy, three-wheeled vehicle she'd never seen before drive past, and pretended to bump into him. It only took her a few seconds: she apologized profusely while she removed several bills from his wallet, then smiled at him and slipped the wallet back where it came from. The man returned the smile and even managed a, “No problem” in English. She felt his eyes on her for a few seconds as she walked away, but then he got on his bike and left.

As soon as she had walked a few blocks away and turned right at a large intersection, Liz stopped to see what she had taken. She counted nine bills, each of the same denomination, with the same picture of a man she guessed must be the king on them. She thought she recalled learning at some point that Thailand was a monarchy. The only thing she could read on them was “1,000”. She had no idea how much a thousand of the Thai currency was worth, but if it had come out of an ATM, she supposed it must not be too small.

To her faint surprise, there was another 7-11 just a few blocks ahead of her. They seemed to be extremely common here – more common than she thought they were in the US. But they still were something kind of familiar, so Liz decided she'd see what she might be able to buy for the cash she had in this one.

It turned out she'd gotten more than she expected. A bottle of water, some chips, a yogurt, and some kind of strange meat and cheese sandwich cost her just under a hundred of the currency, which she gathered was called “baht”. The cashier didn't seem too bothered to break such a large bill, although Liz wished she had a purse or something to put the coins in, at least. But she thanked the cashier, put the rest of the baht in her pockets, and went back outside into the humid night air. There was a bench right out front, and although she was faintly nervous to sit down so near where she had picked that guy's pocket, she decided to risk it. Her headache had gotten a little worse during her walk. No one disturbed her while she ate, though plenty of people looked at her. She made herself not worry about it too much. At least she had some food in her stomach now, and the resources to get more when she next wanted it – assuming she found an okay place to spend the night.

As she stood up to throw away her trash, a poster on the inside of the window of the 7-11 caught her eye. It looked like it was advertising a tourist attraction of some kind. A temple, maybe, she guessed as she looked closer. It was certainly ornate, and the architecture was different from anything she'd seen before. There was a lot of gold leaf on the buildings. Then she noticed the front steps of the temple. The low walls on either side of the staircase were each topped with a long, undulating, snakelike stone creature, with an open mouth and crested head, and an intricate pattern of scales. The image made Liz feel very odd. She almost regretted the food she'd just eaten. She knew she had never seen statues like these before, and yet... It took until a Thai family walked up to the door of the store, the kids chattering to each other, for her to break out of her reverie. She shook herself, tossed her garbage in the nearest receptacle, and turned away.

~


	3. Chapter 3

~

She kept walking, her steps almost in time with the throbbing of her head, until one of the three-wheeled vehicles with the very loud engines pulled up alongside her. Its driver called out to her, “Hello! Where you go?”

Liz faced the man with an uneasy smile. She had already gathered that these vehicles were taxis of some kind, but since she knew next to nothing about Khon Kaen as a city, she had no destination to tell him, even if she wanted to. Besides, the strange feeling she'd gotten when she looked at the poster for the temple hadn't quite left her. “No, thanks,” she said.

The taxi driver waited for a few more seconds, but when she repeated her polite refusal, he drove off.

For lack of any better direction to go – and having done her best to look ahead and make sure she wasn't heading into a sketchy area of town – Liz kept going the way she was going. But her head still hurt, and her ribs were starting to feel worse after all this exercise, too. She sat down on another bench. This one was in front of a large park. There were fewer people in this area, but at least the street was still well-lit, and she hadn't felt directly threatened by anyone who passed by.

That didn't last too long. First, a man who looked to be about twenty years older than her (though of course, she didn't even know exactly how old she was) came down the street and started to try to talk to her. He was smiling, but it didn't feel like a benign kind of smile. He didn't speak any English, and didn't seem to be convinced by her repeated statements that she didn't know Thai. He got closer. She started to get angry as well as feel threatened, and her headache grew worse. She stood up in spite of the pain. She could hurt him, if she needed to. It wouldn't be hard. In fact, there were various ways she could hurt him. Something in her posture and expression made the man take a step back. But he still wouldn't leave. Finally, though, when a car pulled over to the side of the road a few yards away and the driver called out to the man, Liz took the opportunity to hurry away.

She ended up turning down a side street, and then regretting it when she realized how comparatively dark it was. But the man from before didn't seem to be following her. She sat down on the steps of a shut-up shop, panting. Her head felt terrible, and she was so exhausted. Maybe no one would mind if she tried to sleep here. With a sigh, she stood up one more time and went to sit in the corner of the shop's doorway. It was currently covered by a pull-down metal door fastened to the sidewalk at the bottom, but there was enough space in the corner of the doorway for her to lean against the wall there. She did so, and pulled her knees to her chest. It wasn't comfortable, by any stretch, but at least she was resting. And there was a potted plant of some kind a few feet in front of her, so she was partially obscured from the view of anyone who might walk by.

While she sat in her corner, getting closer to falling asleep than she felt like should be possible given her situation, Liz became aware that she was being watched. She looked up. At first, she didn't see anyone to explain the sensation. Then a cat strolled into view from the opposite direction from which she'd come. Liz smiled. The animal approached her in a leisurely fashion, not at all nervous like the dog had been earlier. She stroked its soft gray fur when it came within reach. It purred and rubbed against her for a few minutes. Then it continued on its way. Liz watched it until it disappeared into the shadows.

Once she was alone again, Liz's eyes began to close of their own accord. She leaned her head back against the wall. Maybe she could catch a few minutes of sleep, at least. She was sure she would remain alert enough to defend herself from anyone who might find her.

A tiny sound from somewhere close by made her open her eyes and sit up not too long after this. The jolt of adrenaline and sudden change of position was not welcome to her aching head – but when she scanned her surroundings, she couldn't see anyone or anything that might have made the noise. The sensation of being watched was back, though. She tried to regulate her breathing.

Then, across the street, she finally saw a young boy. He looked like he was maybe twelve or thirteen. He was staring right at her, eyes wide, in the light of the nearest street light. When he saw that she was looking at him, he looked away for a second, then looked back. Liz gave him a hesitant smile. He returned the smile, and then dashed off. Liz blinked and watched him go. At least he couldn't have thought she was too terrifying, she guessed, if he could smile at her.

She stayed curled up in the corner for a few more minutes. Then, just as she was trying to decide whether she could stay here, or if she needed to gear herself up for more walking, and maybe trying to persuade some hostel to let her sleep there even though she had no identification, she heard a car approaching from the direction she had come. It pulled over on the opposite side of the little road from her. The front doors opened. The boy from before got out of the passenger's side, and a woman got out of the other side. The boy was talking to the woman in tones of excitement, pointing at Liz. The woman followed his direction, and her own eyes widened. She took his hand, and the two of them crossed the street.

Liz stood up as they came closer. She sensed no threat from either of them, although she hadn't tried her disturbing ability on them yet. “Hello,” she said cautiously.

The woman and her son (she guessed) looked at each other, eyebrows raised, and then back at Liz. “Hello,” said the boy. “You speak English? No Thai?”

“Sorry, no,” said Liz. “Just English.”

The two looked at each other again, and the boy shrugged. Then he looked up at Liz. “Are you...” Then he trailed off, looking frustrated, before trying again. “Are you _mangkon_? I think you are.”

Liz shivered. She didn't know what the word meant, but his certainty was obvious. “I don't know what you mean,” she said.

The boy spoke a few words to his mother. Then he reached out a hand toward Liz, hesitant. When Liz took his hand, his confidence seemed to increase. He smiled. “Yes. I think you are. You come with us. We take you where you should be.”

Liz looked from the boy's clear-eyed gaze to his mother. She was smiling, too, and in her expression was something like awe. She repeated the word the boy had used – _mangkon_ – and then gestured toward the car. “Please,” she said, bobbing her head in a little bow.

Still holding the boy's hand, Liz took a breath and tried her trick of looking into his mind. But instead of seeing anything of his thoughts and memories, it was like the-- power, or energy, or whatever it was she was trying to use, slid off him. She blinked. When she tried it on the mother, the same thing happened. There was something different about these two. Was it so unlikely that they had recognized something different about her, as well?

Finally, when the boy pulled gently on her hand and started to walk toward their car, Liz swallowed and walked with him. It wasn't like she had any better ideas. While she couldn't be as sure as she had been with Kham that they didn't have ulterior motives for helping her, they really didn't seem like they were a threat. Their continued amazement as they accompanied her to the car made her feel a little uncomfortable, but it also felt like it might be a sign they weren't going to harm her.

The boy gestured for her to get into the back seat of the extended cab pickup. “We take you to temple where my uncle live,” he said. “Not far.”

A temple? Liz almost stopped. That couldn't mean they thought... But the boy beamed at her again, and pointed into the back. “Please,” he said again, and then said something she didn't catch. A second later, she stared at him in shock as she felt what was unmistakably a sensation of welcome and reverence in her mind … from his.

Gasping, Liz put a hand to her head. This was – this was too weird. But she was so tired, and she had no one else to trust. And if they thought she was someone worth revering, as awkward as that made her feel, it was surely another indication that they weren't going to mistreat her in any way. She climbed into the truck. The boy spoke to his mother, and at her reply he climbed in after Liz. He didn't sit right next to her, but he sat facing her as the woman started the car.

When she winced sitting down, the boy looked concerned. “You are hurt?” He finished the question with the same word she hadn't really caught before getting into the car, and she realized it must be a term of address for her.

“Yes,” Liz said. “My head, and my ribs.”

He looked appalled now. “Someone hurt you?”

“I'm not sure,” she said honestly. “I don't remember.”

“Oh,” he said, drawing out the syllable. Then he turned to the front seat and talked to his mother. She also sounded both appalled and like this maybe explained some things.

After this, the boy didn't speak to her again for the rest of the trip. It was long enough, despite his assertion that their destination wasn't far, that Liz found herself nodding off several times. When the car finally stopped, she blinked slowly and looked around.

It was too dark to see much, but a street light illuminated golden roofs and an ornate stone wall. They were at a temple similar to the one in the poster. When she got out of the truck, she saw that it was much smaller than the one she had seen advertised. Still, as the boy and his mother led her onto the temple grounds, she saw much of the same architecture – and in the middle of the courtyard, there was a structure with the stone snakes coming down off it on all four corners. She stopped and stared. The weird feeling was back, full-force. The hair on the back of her neck rose. And there were other people on the temple grounds, she knew, watching their little group.

“Yes,” said the boy, nodding and pointing at the snakes.

Before Liz could even try to ask him a question, she was distracted by the arrival of a man in a deep orange robe. His head was shaved, and he wore simple sandals. A monk, she surmised. There was a young man behind him in loose-fitting white clothes.

Both the woman and the boy bowed low to the monk as he approached, with their palms pressed together and raised above their heads. Liz wasn't sure whether she was supposed to do the same. The boy jumped up much faster than his mother got to her feet. He chattered at the monk excitedly, pointing at Liz a few times as he did so. The monk regarded Liz with an expression of mild interest that didn't change throughout the boy's tale. Once the boy finished, the monk said a few words in response. The boy's face fell, and he turned to his mother. But whatever she said left him looking resigned. He faced Liz and said, “We go now. My uncle take care of you. Maybe we come back tomorrow.” Then he bowed, almost as low as he had for his uncle, with his palms pressed together as before.

Liz, once more at a loss as to whether she should imitate this gesture, said, “Thank you. You-- you've been very kind.”

The boy had looked confused briefly while she spoke, but then he nodded and smiled. “You're welcome,” he said, finishing with that same term of address. His mother bowed as well, and then the two of them departed.

Liz watched them go, then turned to the monk. He was watching her. “Uh, hello, sir,” she said.

The monk nodded, and greeted her in Thai. As he kept talking, Liz was startled when she got something like the sensation of awe and welcome the boy had sent her. But this seemed more like the monk was sending her the concepts behind his words. She saw an image of a room with a mattress on the floor, and felt that it was a question.

Utterly exhausted by now, with her headache still not improving anything, Liz seized onto this idea. “Yes. Yes, please,” she said. She hoped she might be projecting her thoughts of agreement to him, too.

He smiled again, and then the young man beckoned for her to follow them. They walked past the central structure – sort of a pavilion, Liz saw, with a large drum or gong suspended in the middle – and toward a simple wooden structure that looked like a dormitory. Then the monk paused, said something to the young man, and nodded respectfully to Liz before he left. The young man kept going toward the other side of the grounds. Liz followed him to a little wooden building on stilts. He gestured to the stairs. He also pointed to something under the little house that, when Liz looked closer, she saw was a large bucket of water with a dipper on top. That, she gathered from the young man's charades, was for her to wash herself. There wasn't a screen or anything for privacy, which concerned her a little, but on the other hand, she was so tired that she kind of just wanted to fall into bed.

The young man bowed to her, and spoke a quiet phrase in Thai. Liz nodded to him in turn. Then after he left, she used a little of the water to wash her face and hands before climbing the stairs.

Inside, the one-room structure was as simple as it appeared from outside: only a thin mattress on the floor, with a folded set of white clothes on top. She thought they might match what the young man was wearing. This was all she needed right now. Liz changed out of her clothes into the garments she'd been given, and lay down. She was asleep seconds later.

She slept solidly for the rest of the night. Toward morning, her dreams were invaded by what she thought at first were only nightmares. It started with images of the stone snakes at the temple coming alive and moving toward her. She was frightened, but not overly so. She knew they wouldn't hurt her. They recognized their kinship with her, like the boy had seen it. Then suddenly, as she stood alone in the middle of the temple courtyard, she was hit with a wave of pain that made her cry out and fall to her knees. It was like something was attacking her from the inside, trying to get out. This time, there was no one to help her. But she knew there had been, when this really happened. She lay on the ground, gasping sharp breaths. Someone had helped her before. Someone...

And there he was. She was so glad to see him, to recall his face at last. But this wasn't how things had gone at all. Instead of coming to her where she lay, this man was being dragged away from her even as he tried with all his strength to pull away from those who were holding him back. She couldn't hear over a ringing in her ears, but she watched him try to call her name. She could see the anguish on his face. And there was another man, someone else she cared about deeply, but he couldn't get to her, either. His expression was nearly the same as the first man's. Liz wanted more than anything to get up and go to them, to fight against those who were separating them. She should be able to transform, and then they wouldn't be able to stop her from doing what she wanted. But instead she stayed where she was, mute, helpless, unable to react.

Liz shot awake suddenly, at the sound of the door to her little room being opened. There was a man in white clothes like hers standing in the doorway, his eyes wide. As Liz caught her breath and reoriented herself, trying to hold onto the fragments of memory supplied by the terrible dream, she noted that this man didn't look like he was Thai. He had close-cropped brown hair and blue eyes.

“Uh, good morning, ma'am,” the man said, sinking into a sort of half bow. His accent suggested he was English. “I apologize for waking you, but the abbot told me to continue checking in on you as the morning went on. If you'd like, I can bring you some breakfast.”

Aware that she couldn't possibly look at her best, Liz ran a hand through her hair and sat up. “That sounds good,” she said. Her head felt much better this morning, which was a relief. “But, um, before you leave, can I ask you some questions?”

“Certainly,” he said. He stepped inside and shut the door most of the way. Then he slapped at the back of his neck and frowned for a second. “Damn mosquitoes,” he muttered. “Sorry.”

Liz smiled faintly. “Not a problem.” She hadn't been bothered by the mosquitoes yet, but she didn't expect that to last. “Uh, you can sit down if you want.” As soon as he had done so, cross-legged in front of her mattress, Liz asked, “First of all, what is this place? I mean, I know it's a temple, but I was brought here last night by some people who couldn't really speak English. They just said it's where I should be.”

The man's eyes widened again. “Ah. So you don't-- You aren't an ancient dragon or snake spirit in human form? Because that's what they thought you were, but I don't think you'd need me to answer that question if so. That's why the boy and his mother brought you to a temple. They thought you should be at a place of sanctuary, and a place from which you might bring blessing.”

She felt that odd feeling from last night return – but with what she had remembered in her dreams, she understood it at least a little better. Only a little. “No, I'm not a spirit,” she said, looking down at her hands. “But they weren't entirely wrong.”

He sucked in a breath, but when she looked up, he didn't look either too alarmed or too surprised. “I'm glad to hear you say that, because otherwise I would have thought what I saw when I woke you up was just my overactive imagination.”

“What did you see?” Liz asked quietly.

“Your eyes – they changed for just a second,” he said. “They looked, well, reptilian.”

That was more confirmation. It hadn't all been a dream. The abilities she had, and this strange energy that she could feel inside her – that was because she wasn't human, as much as she looked like it. She knew now that if she tried at all, she could shed her human appearance. She just wasn't entirely sure what she'd look like if she did. “The boy from last night called me _mangkon_ ,” she said. “What does that mean?”

“Dragon.”

“Oh.” Liz licked her lips and dropped her gaze from his again. That felt accurate. The older man from her dream was a dragon as well, she thought. But the other man wasn't. She wished she knew their names, and who they were to her. All she knew was that they both cared about her, and she cared about them. And she did remember their faces, at least somewhat.

“Any other questions, ma'am?” The young man hadn't moved from his seat on the floor. There was some kind of mat spread over the wooden boards, she noticed.

Looking up, Liz took a deep breath. “Yeah. Um, what am I expected to do? I'm happy to stay here for a little while at least, but I don't want to offend anyone, and I don't want to have to disappoint anyone, either.”

“You mean, when they find out you're not a spirit, or a semi-divine being?” At Liz's nod, the man looked thoughtful. “Well, I'm not an expert by any means, but from what I've learned in the past several months here, the rest of them will choose to believe what they want to about you, unless you really want to try to convince them they're wrong. But that would be quite disrespectful to the abbot and the other senior monks, so I don't recommend it. I expect they'll leave you to yourself for the most part, at first. They know you're injured.”

“Good. Then I can do the same,” Liz said. She was relieved.

“They probably won't leave you like that for too long, though,” he warned. “I've already heard rumors of a festival they want to organize in your honor, so you can bless the inhabitants of the surrounding neighborhoods. I'm sure word will spread, too.”

Shaking her head, Liz drew back. “I-- I'm not a god. I don't have the power to bless anyone or anything.” Plus, the idea that rumors would spread about her identity as a dragon was not a welcome one. Her dream/memory had only confirmed her fear that she was in danger.

“So you've said.” The man regarded her calmly, and Liz realized with a jolt that despite having listened to her, he might not believe her denials, either. “Regardless, for however long you choose to be here, I've been assigned to look after you, see to your needs. I'll start by getting you some food, if that's all right.”

“Okay.” Liz stayed where she was while her-- what? Assistant? Servant? Manager? stood up and went to leave. “Wait,” she said. He paused. “What's your name?”

“Daniel,” he replied, with a smile.

“Nice to meet you, Daniel,” she said, returning the smile. “I'm Elizabeth.”

“It's an honor to meet you, Elizabeth.”

 

~  
She passed her first day at the temple, as Daniel had predicted, with no one disturbing her rest. Daniel brought her breakfast – a simple but filling dish of fried rice – and then escorted her to the unoccupied end of the dormitory so that she could shower. The woman who had driven her here last night had bought and donated some essential items for her: soap, deodorant, toothpaste, a toothbrush, a hairbrush, and even underwear. Liz wished she could thank the woman. She wasn't troubled by wearing the outfit supplied to her (Daniel told her it was what every guest not in training to be a monk wore), but she wanted to be able to keep herself and her clothes clean, too.

After she had eaten, showered, and followed Daniel back to her little room, she asked him another couple of questions that had occurred to her as she observed the other inhabitants of the temple. “Daniel, why are there only men and boys here, other than me? Do women have their own – convents? Are they not allowed to even visit?”

“Normally, only men or boys who want to study Buddhism or pursue the monkhood stay at a _wat_ – sorry, a temple,” said Daniel. He shrugged. “Monks aren't even supposed to touch a woman. That's why it's lucky I'm not a monk.” Then he added quickly, “Er, not that I'm going to touch you, but I just mean it'd be improper for the monks to look after you directly, too.”

Raising her eyebrows, Liz said, “I see,” and sat down on her bed. It was already getting hot, even though it was only mid-morning. “But they're bending the rules about female visitors in my case, I guess.” She winced as the position she was in caused her ribs to twinge, and tried to find a more comfortable one.

Seeing this, Daniel asked, “How are you feeling? Do you need something for the pain?”

“I wouldn't mind some,” Liz confessed. She saw no reason to suffer if she didn't need to. Which, she reflected privately, maybe wasn't the most Buddhist attitude to have.

“I'll go get some, then.”

Despite herself, Liz had fallen asleep again in the few minutes it took for Daniel to come back. But she woke herself up for long enough to take the paracetamol he offered, thank him, and watch him leave. She added the rest of the bottle of painkillers to her stash of supplies. Then her eyes slipped shut again.

Her awakening was less stressful this time. The dreams she'd been having weren't quite so full of fear and pain. She had been in a large, open, utilitarian space, where she was evidently working with the younger of the two men from her other dream as well as several other people she knew she should recall. She thought they must all be law enforcement of some kind. Maybe FBI. She hadn't been able to hear what the guy at the computer had been telling them all, but it had been familiar. They had a case. They were gathering information to take down their target. There was a sense of loss associated with this scene. That memory had changed into a scene she was watching from above. She was flying, she realized, looking down at the ground below her. The tension and worries of the day were starting to melt away. That was when she saw the bear at its kill. The opportunity was too good to pass up.

Just as she had killed the bear and begun to feed in her dream, Liz was woken by a gentle knock on her door. She rolled over, stretching even though it hurt her ribs a little. “Come in.”

Daniel opened it. “Did I wake you again? My apologies, Elizabeth.”

“It's fine,” she said, and sat up. “What's going on?”

“Well,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “it looks like your lunch is going to be a fair bit more interesting than your breakfast was.”

It turned out that word of her arrival at the temple must have begun to spread already. There had been a slow but steady flow of gifts – offerings, really – dropped off for her at the entrance to the place, according to Daniel. He had brought some of them with him.

Liz felt herself blush as she looked at the beautiful flower arrangements, gift baskets, and little banana-leaf trays of food. “I don't have anything to give to these people in return,” she said, lightly touching the petal of what she thought was an orchid. “Nothing. I can't give them good luck, or prosperity, or whatever else they think I can do.”

“It's the act of giving these gifts that earns them merit,” Daniel said, sitting down at the edge of the room. “Even if you aren't what they think you are, by accepting these gifts, you help them do a good deed. So accept them. That's my advice.”

She sighed. “Fine, but I can't possibly eat all of this food by myself. So you have to help me.” At his surprised look, she added, “Unless that's against the rules?”

“No,” he said, though he sounded uncertain. “But I would say we should also donate what you don't want to the communal table.”

“Okay. Great.” Liz tried to ignore her lingering guilt that she was deceiving these people just by staying where she was. Daniel's explanation had only partially assuaged her conscience. She was definitely hungry, though.

She and Daniel ate a good portion of the sticky rice, grilled meat, and fruit that had been given to her. It was all delicious. Even apart from her worry about the danger of sticking around here for too long, with rumors about her spreading, Liz thought wryly, if she received offerings like this every day for every meal, she would start to put on weight in no time. Especially if all she did was lie around and accept them. On second thought, based on how thin she had looked in the mirror at the hospital, maybe she should stay here for a while.

One of the baskets of fruit she'd been given contained a bunch of small, round, dark reddish-purple fruits that Liz had never seen before. She asked Daniel what they were, and his eyes widened. “You've never had mangosteen before?”

There was a flash of something in her memory that faded almost as soon as it came. “No,” she said slowly, “but someone told me once that they taste very good.”

“Well, then. Try one for yourself.” Daniel scored through the hard outer rind of one of the round fruits with a knife that had been included in the gifts. Then he pulled it open, and handed the two halves to Liz. “Just eat the white part, not the seeds or the rind.”

Whoever it was who had told her about mangosteen was absolutely correct, Liz decided almost immediately upon tasting her first bite. The fruit was as close to a perfect balance of delicate flavors as she could begin to imagine. “Okay, this is a new favorite,” she said to Daniel, who laughed and said he'd felt the same way when he first had some.

Daniel was only reluctantly convinced to let her help him clean up the remnants of their meal when she insisted that she wasn't in pain. She did allow him to be the one who took all of the rest of it to the appropriate place, whether that was the communal eating house or elsewhere. She still couldn't bring herself to face any groups of people who thought she was a creature to be worshipped. Of course, it wasn't certain that staying inside would keep rumors from spreading. The unintentional air of mystery might just make things worse.

A little later, with this in mind, Liz decided to sit outside under the shade one of the many large, spreading trees on the grounds of the temple. Daniel said that the monks and novices were in classes right now, so there shouldn't be too many people around. In fact, as she climbed down the steep stairs, other than several very hot, tired-looking dogs splayed out on the ground, she saw only one or two young boys in their robes out and about. They looked at her curiously as she and Daniel walked over to one of the pavilion areas. She sat down on the steps, under the branches of one of the trees. It felt good to be outside. She shut her eyes and leaned back with a sigh.

“You aren't bothered by the heat?” Daniel said from behind her. “Most people stay indoors in the afternoon if they have the chance.”

“I'm not as much of a fan of the humidity,” Liz replied, “but I like the heat. And I don't have to worry about getting sunburned, either.” She kept her eyes shut, noting that she could bring those types of facts to mind even though so much of her memories were still missing.

“Hmm.” He sounded intrigued. “I guess you ended up in a decent climate, then.”

“I guess. How about you?” Liz asked. “How did an Englishman end up in a Buddhist temple outside of Khon Kaen, Thailand, anyway?”

Daniel told her the story of his study abroad at Khon Kaen University, and how he had gotten intrigued by his Thai roommate's religious beliefs, enough to start investigating them for himself. His parents had been less than thrilled that he had given up his university studies to learn about Thai Buddhism, but he was pretty sure this wasn't just going to be a brief, passing phase of his life. “I'm still not certain I want to enter the monkhood,” he finished, “but the abbot here will give me all the time I want to decide, as long as I participate in the life of the temple.”

Liz ate an early dinner a few hours later. The lingering effects of the concussion and her other injuries made her very willing to go back to bed shortly afterward. She had already resolved that, if she continued to feel better, she would seriously consider leaving the temple tomorrow. Or at the latest, the day after that.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are attempting to be both accurate and respectful of what we've have learned and observed about Thai Buddhism. Any mistakes or inaccuracies are entirely our fault, and we do apologize.


	4. Chapter 4

~  
She woke up early the next morning to the sound of many voices chanting from very nearby. At first she was alarmed and disoriented; there was something at the back of her mind about chanting that was tied to a terrible memory. But then she recalled where she was. She was safe.

Frustratingly enough, she didn't remember anything from her dreams that night – bad or good. She turned over on the thin mattress, closing her eyes and listening to the chanting as well as the early morning birdsong. It was getting more and more intolerable, knowing so little about herself. She knew her first name, that she was American, and that she was or at least had been part of law enforcement, maybe FBI. She knew she had at least two very important people in her life. One of those two could be her father, she realized suddenly. It seemed absurd that she wouldn't be sure of that. The other one was … what? Her boyfriend? Not husband, she thought. But boyfriend didn't seem like it was good enough as a descriptor. She didn't remember their names at all.

And above and beyond all of that, she knew she was a dragon, and that she was in danger, likely from the same person or people who had left her by the side of the road in northeastern Thailand. The man who might be her father was also a dragon. Her boyfriend, or whatever he was exactly to her, was not. Maybe they were looking for her, she mused. If so, she had no idea if they would even have a clue where to start looking. She didn't know how to return to them or contact them, either.

By the time Daniel came by with breakfast, Liz had gotten dressed in her own clothes (freshly washed and air-dried yesterday). She had decided for sure that she would be leaving today. She told Daniel so with some trepidation; she knew nonviolence was a tenet of Buddhism, but she also knew that the people here wanted her to stay.

Daniel did in fact look disappointed. “Are you sure? If it's just that you don't want to be part of that festival--”

“I don't, but that's not why,” she said. She ran a hand through her hair and went on, “Daniel, I don't remember much about what happened to me before I woke up in Thailand, but I know someone is looking for me. I'm in danger, and the longer I stay here, the more danger I'll be in – especially if the local people keep telling all their friends that there's a dragon living here. Then whoever's hunting me will track me here, and you and your friends and the monks will be in danger, too.” She regarded him steadily. “Besides that, I need to find a way to get back to the people I love. I don't know where they are, but I know they're not anywhere close to here.”

“Well.” Daniel blew out his breath. “I can't argue with your reasoning – although I'm sure we'd do our best to protect you if these enemies of yours did come here.”

“What kind of bringer of good luck would I be if all I did was get any of you hurt or killed?” Liz smiled sadly. “Though I am grateful – very grateful – to you and to the abbot for letting me stay and recover here.” A thought occurred to her, and she reached into the pocket of her jeans. It was probably wrong to offer money that she'd stolen to a temple, but she pulled out half of the remaining baht anyway. “Here. I'm going to leave this in my room. Consider it a donation.”

“Right.” Daniel sighed again, then stuck out his hand. “It's been a pleasure and an honor, Elizabeth. I wish you all the best luck in finding your way back home.”

Liz shook his hand. “And I wish you luck in finding the truth you want to find. Thank you, again.”

He insisted on escorting her to the temple entrance. “How are you going to travel? Can I at least offer you some directions? Oh! Wait, hang on a minute. I have something I can give you...”

Amused, Liz stood where he'd left her, as requested. It was pretty early in the morning, but Liz was still surprised that there didn't seem to be anyone else around the grounds. She wondered where they all had gone. Evidently it wasn't unusual, or Daniel would have remarked on it. One of the temple dogs trotted past, cocking an ear at her but otherwise ignoring her.

A minute later, Daniel returned, holding a piece of folded paper. “Here,” he said. “At least put this in with the rest of your things. It's a map of Isaan, in English.”

Liz had brought along a plastic bag with a few of the items donated to her that first evening. She took the map with gratitude. “Thanks, Daniel. For everything.”

“It was my pleasure.” Then the young man looked almost shy. “Before you go, do – do you think you could … change, just for a second? I have a feeling I'll never get the chance to see a dragon again after today.”

Liz's first impulse was to refuse. There weren't that many people in the world who knew about her draconic nature, who had seen her in her true form. That much, she was fairly sure of. But on the other hand, showing Daniel while there was no one else around probably couldn't hurt. She glanced around the courtyard, then beckoned Daniel to follow her out into the street. The courtyard wouldn't be enough space, she could tell. If there really wasn't anyone else around the temple right now...

Without thinking about it too much, Liz reached out with her mind. Other than Daniel, she didn't encounter any other minds close enough to rule out a few seconds in her true form. She held out her bag to him. “Hold this for me, would you?” Then she walked out into the middle of the street and transformed.

It was a relief to be in dragon form, even for a very short time, Liz found. She stretched her wings carefully, making sure she didn't collide with any trees or power lines around her. She wanted to fly, but of course she couldn't trust that no one would see her. With a sigh, she changed back into her human form.

Daniel was staring at her in utter awe. When Liz walked over to him, his jaw was still dropped. He shook his head faintly. “Elizabeth … thank you,” he said at last. “That was … it was unforgettable.”

Liz blushed and took her bag back from him. She didn't know what to say to that. “I should really get going,” was what she settled on. “I was thinking I'd head north.” She didn't have a really good reason for choosing north, but it seemed like an okay choice.

He blinked and seemed to refocus on the business at hand. “North? Right. Um, if you keep going too far north, you'll probably end up at the border with Laos.” He scratched the side of his face. “I'm guessing you'd rather avoid trying to cross a border without any identification?”

“Probably,” she agreed. Although she supposed she could try to cross at night, in her dragon form, if there was some reason to do so. She knew even less about Laos than she knew about Thailand.

“Then, unless you have some other plans, I recommend you go to the bus station and take the bus to Udon Thani. That's a city about four or five hours north of here by bus,” he said. “You don't need to know much Thai to get there. You just tell someone who works at the station you want to go to Udon Thani, and they'll help you out.”

Liz thought about this. It sounded all right. She certainly didn't have a better plan. “Okay. Thanks, Daniel. I think I'll do that.”

“Great. Then let me get a tuktuk for you.” He grinned. “I've gotten pretty good at bargaining for a good fare since I moved here, if I do say so myself.”

It turned out that 'tuktuk' was what the loud, three-wheeled taxis were called, as a nod to the noise their engines made. Daniel walked a few yards away and hailed the next one that drove past. He talked to the driver in rapid, fluent Thai. Then he called Liz over. “He's giving you a fair price,” he informed her. “It'll be sixty baht, since it's a little bit of a distance from here. You pay when you get there. He might help you find the right part of the bus station, too, since it's a rather huge place.”

Liz thanked Daniel for what felt like the dozenth time. She hesitated briefly as she looked into his eyes. If she was worried about him keeping her true nature secret, she suddenly knew there was a way she could do so. It would be pretty easy, in fact. But then she shrugged it off and said, quietly enough that the tuktuk driver wouldn't be able to hear, “And, uh, please don't tell anyone about … what I look like when I change. It would make me feel a little safer.”

“Then I promise I won't.” They shook hands once more, and then Liz climbed into the back of the tuktuk.

The drive to the bus station went without a hitch. The driver was content to let her sit in silence in the back of his vehicle, observing the city as they passed by. Liz was content to have the chance to look out at it, since she hadn't been in any condition to really take in the scenery the first night.

The bus station, once she arrived, was just as overwhelming as Daniel had hinted. But the driver kept going until he pulled up in front of the correct area. He smiled, pointed, and said, “Udon Thani.” Liz got out of the vehicle and gave him the sixty baht. And as Daniel had said, when she asked someone who was in what looked like a uniform about the Udon Thani bus, the young woman led her to the right place to buy her ticket (which didn't put too much of a dent in her remaining cash), and pointed to where the bus would be arriving. “Half hour,” she said.

Liz used her half hour to buy a water bottle and a few snacks, and then simply watch the people around her. She tried to enjoy it, rather than let herself feel exposed and anxious. There was no reason to fear that she had been found. After all, except for spending two nights at the temple, she had been moving around a lot since she first regained consciousness. She just hoped it was enough.

As it turned out, the bus ride was not helpful in reducing her anxiety. It wasn't that the bus itself was unpleasant; it got more crowded as the day went on, but she had her seat, and it seemed to be a relatively well-maintained vehicle. But there was one man that got on one of the stops after they left Khon Kaen who seemed to be watching her. He had sat down across the aisle several rows back, and every time Liz happened to glance around, his eyes were on her until he noticed her looking.

After the fourth time this had occurred, Liz turned away quickly and took a deep breath. The man looked to be Thai; maybe he was just curious about her as one of the only three foreigners on the bus. (The other ones were a young couple that she guessed were backpackers.) But he seemed more focused on her than most curious Thais were. She was starting to feel claustrophobic.

An hour or so passed. The man had made no move toward her, but she continued to feel his gaze on her often. Liz was sure she wasn't going to be able to handle three more hours of this. She turned halfway toward him, so she could see him out of the corner of her eye. Then she tried to see if she could focus on his mind.

She wasn't actually sure if she had found it among all the people on the bus, but a quick search had revealed one person whose thoughts were chillingly direct: they were focused on her. She would need to look at him to get any more, but she couldn't afford to do that. She would have to make a move, ideally without tipping her hand.

The bus slowed, preparing to stop at what seemed to be one of many little roadside stops that had nothing distinguishable about it to her eye. She could see that someone behind her was getting up to get off; she waited until this older woman was nearly at her seat (and therefore hopefully blocking her watcher's view) before she stood up to leave. The ticket attendant said something in a worried voice, of which all that Liz got were the words “Udon Thani”. She tried to smile at him. She could feel the other man's attention sharpening behind her. “It's okay. I want to get off here,” she told the attendant. He still looked nervous, but he let her pass.

As soon as she was off the bus, Liz hurried to hide herself in the midst of the nearest group of people. There were only a few, all clustered around a roadside fruit stand. She ducked behind the awning of the stand and held her breath. The bus pulled away without anyone else getting off.

Liz breathed a sigh of relief. Then she stiffened as she felt a surge of anger from a source that was getting farther away while the bus continued on. He had noticed her absence. What if he--?

She heard the sound of squealing brakes, not all that far away. With a gasp, she turned and ran in the opposite direction, away from the road and the bus. There was a walled building in front of her – a school, maybe. She dashed along the wall and around the corner. If he was following her, he hadn't caught up yet at least.

Liz ran past the school, ignoring the way her ribs hurt and how her head was starting to ache again. Behind the school, across a small field, there was a line of trees marking the beginning of what looked like a forest. If she could reach their shelter, she might be okay, she thought. Especially if there was some way she could transform and fly away from there without being seen.

Liz had just about reached the trees when she heard a shout behind her. She increased her speed. Then there was the crack of a gunshot, and she felt a sharp stinging, burning sensation along her upper left arm. She stumbled, but didn't stop running. Now that she was in the forest, surely he wouldn't be able to shoot her again.

No sooner had she thought this when she heard another shot fired. But this one missed her entirely. Liz kept going through the trees, weaving and taking as much care to avoid protruding roots as possible, until she couldn't run anymore. Then she threw herself behind the trunk of an especially large one and sank to the ground, gasping for breath. Her arm, head, and ribs were all in pain.

Over the sound of her panting breaths and racing heartbeat, Liz struggled to listen for any sounds of her pursuer. She reached out with her mind, as well. She could sense him, but he was frustrated, and not very close. Those had to be good signs. She couldn't hear him nearby, either.

Liz pulled out her water bottle from the plastic bag she'd managed to hold onto even through her wild dash through the trees. It was almost empty, but she took a few swallows anyway. Then she pulled out the few meager napkins the food vendor had given her with her purchase, and pressed them to her bleeding upper arm. It looked like a pretty shallow graze, at least. She used a little more of her precious water and one of the napkins to clean the wound as best she could. Then she allowed herself another half minute to recover her breath before she stood up to keep going. She was dizzy for a second, but that passed. At least her headache and sore ribs hadn't gotten worse since she jarred them into making themselves known again. She continued to apply pressure to the bullet graze on her arm, though she knew the tissue paper would be soaked through soon.

A few more minutes of walking brought her through the forest. She stopped and stared at what she saw on the other side.

The trees melted away to reveal an open field, several acres across, with tree-covered rolling hills surrounding most of the area and a large lake. It was beautiful – and it looked very secluded. She checked again to be sure no one was close by. Yes, it seemed like this might be a safe place to transform. But she did want to take her few belongings with her, too. She supposed if no one was around to see her as a dragon, no one would see her as a dragon carrying a plastic bag, either. All the same, she would stash it somewhere as soon as she found a good place.

Looping the handles of the bag over one fingertip on her right hand, Liz closed her eyes and made the change. A few wingbeats later, she was aloft. The late morning sun felt good on her wings and back, and helped take away the lingering ache in her ribs. Plus, she was pretty sure she nearly always felt better about life in general when she was in the air.

To her pleased surprise, after she flew over the lake and started to look for a good place to land, she saw what looked like an opening in the side of one of the taller hills below. Dropping closer, she saw that it was, in fact, a cave – and that it might be large enough for her. There wasn't much of a ledge in front of it, but it turned out to be just enough space to land and then transform back. Her injured arm twinged when she landed, but when she was human again she saw to her relief that it wasn't bleeding much.

Liz sat down against the cave wall, just inside the opening, and pulled out one of the interesting-looking snack bars she'd bought at the bus station. It seemed to be made of a variety of grains and nuts, with honey to stick it all together. Not bad, she thought. It wasn't nearly enough for an early lunch, or anything, but it would last her until she decided what to do next.

That was when what little good mood she'd managed to gain during her flight disappeared. She was alone again, lost, and had no idea how to rejoin the people she cared about whom she still barely remembered. She'd been shot, even if it wasn't a serious injury. There was no guarantee the man who had been chasing her, who had shot her, wouldn't find her eventually. Maybe even within a few hours.

Liz did her best not to let self-pity overwhelm her. She sniffed and fought back a few tears. She was alive, and safe for the moment. If that man didn't find her, this might actually be a nice enough place to stay for a few days, she told herself. She had shelter, and a water source safe for her dragon form to use at least – and she thought she'd seen some large animals on her way to this cave that she could hunt. Things could be worse.

A few hours later, as she waited tensely to see if her pursuer might locate her, Liz glanced up at the sky and almost revised her earlier statement. Dark clouds were gathering quickly, and the wind was picking up. Shivering slightly, Liz picked up her plastic bag and went further into the cave. She had barely sat down again before it started to pour.

Rain fell in torrents for almost half an hour. Liz would have been lulled by the sound, except that the rain was accompanied by a dramatic thunder and lightning storm that passed quite close by her cave. At least it was entertaining to watch, she thought wryly. It wasn't like she had anything else to do. And at least, when she moved as far back into the cave as possible, the wind couldn't bring the rain in that far. She had only gotten slightly damp before she realized she needed to move.

Once the storm blew over, Liz stood up, wincing at sore muscles. The temperature had gone down, though it was still humid. She walked to the entrance of the cave again, and checked to see if anyone was within range of her ability to sense. There was no one, other than the very faint sensation she recognized as coming from the school. She didn't know whether that was because everyone who might have reason to be outside otherwise was back in their houses, or if she really had found a place that isolated. Either way, it was kind of freeing.

Liz set down her meager belongings in the back of the cave and stretched. It was about lunch time now. She found herself eager to hunt.

Once she was in the air, it took a little longer than Liz would have liked to find any possible prey. There were some cows out in the fields, but they were skinny and had lead ropes tied around their muzzles. She wasn't going to eat some farmer's animals, even if they'd been less bony.

When she did finally see a couple of much larger, cow-like animals, she realized two things: first, that these creatures were imposing, with their huge horns, and second, that they probably belonged to someone, too. They had to also be farm animals. And if so, if she hunted them, she might be removing one of very few sources of income for the farmer that owned them.

This second fact was enough for Liz to turn around and fly back to her cave, empty-clawed. But once she had transformed back and eaten the rest of her snacks, she reached the difficult conclusion that she had little choice about what she was going to do for further meals. If she didn't eat the type of horned livestock animals she'd seen, she was going to starve. Her only other option was trying to find another city and live off pickpocketing. Neither option was great, and both involved stealing. And she would be much less safe in a city. That was clear enough from today.

She pulled out the remaining baht from her back pocket and counted it. There were only four thousand-baht bills left, and some smaller change. That probably wasn't even enough to pay for one of those animals. Water buffalo, she decided they might be, after another moment of thought. But the point was, unless she snuck into the nearest city and stole from people who seemed to be richer than rice farmers, then tracked down the owners of each animal she killed, she would very likely be causing a lot of misfortune to anyone who lived at all close to her cave.

Liz put her head in her hands. If she chose only one animal out of a larger group, maybe? A herd would imply that the owner wasn't too poor. She laughed bitterly. If she were ruled only by instinct, like any other predator in the natural world, she wouldn't have to worry about these considerations. She would just take what she needed, when she needed it. But as it was, she couldn't do that to these people.

There might also be wild animals in the forest-covered hills where she was right now, Liz reflected then. It wasn't going to be as easy to hunt in areas where animals could easily hide from threats from above, but she could try, at least.

With that in mind, Liz transformed again and took off. She climbed high into the air, then soared over the wilder lands where she had found the cave. It only took her ten minutes to find her first deer. It was much smaller than a buffalo, but she did manage to seize it in her talons before it fled into the underbrush. She landed and ate it where she had killed it. It was much better than nothing, or a handful of cheap snacks.

As she settled into the routine she developed over the next few days, Liz began to lose track of the time she had been out here. Part of that was due to the fact that she had never worked so hard in her life to find the food she needed. She stayed in her dragon form the majority of the time, and went out hunting several times per day. Plentiful wild prey was not easy to find – and a few times, she gave in and took down one buffalo among a small herd. Times when she did this, she needed fewer hunting trips that day, since the animals were so huge. She was aware of the irony in the fact that she had to hunt in her dragon form; she herself was so much bigger in her true form that she knew she needed vastly more food than she would as a human. But her true form was the only one in which she could provide for herself.

Whenever she spent time in her human form, she noted how any superfluous weight she still might have carried had turned to muscle. Her latest bullet wound had healed almost entirely, and her concussion and bruised ribs had long since faded. But she was lonely, and bored, and always hungry. Plus, every day ended with her so tired that she almost never remembered her dreams. She was starting to forget even what little of the faces of her loved ones she had brought back to mind. She didn't know how much more of this she could take.

One morning (she had started belatedly to mark the days by scratching a line on the wall of the cave every morning, so she could guess it had been nearly two weeks), Liz was out hunting when she sensed a human mind nearby. She swore to herself. The woman was close enough that there wasn't a really good way to hide in time. That was when she recalled suddenly that there was a way to avoid being seen in this situation. She could hide herself from the human woman's view. She hadn't done it enough that it was second nature, clearly, but she did know how to do it.

As she kept flying, Liz projected an image of the empty sky to the woman below her. The woman came into view a second later – but by the lack of a startled cry or feeling of fear from her, Liz gathered that she'd been successful at hiding. Liz watched the woman walking through a flooded rice field, leading a buffalo by a rope. Liz made sure she stayed at a high enough altitude that she wouldn't spook the animal; she had a feeling that wouldn't end well for anyone involved. She watched for a little while, then sighed and wheeled away. She would hunt somewhere else this morning – at another side of what was effectively her territory.

It rained again that afternoon. She never bothered to hunt during these downpours, though she supposed it was possible to do so. It just seemed highly unlikely that any animals would be out in such heavy rain if they had any choice. And of course it would be harder to see them from the air.

It was during the downpour, as she crouched at the entrance to her cave, that Liz realized the vague itchiness she'd felt on some parts of her body yesterday was getting worse. A lot worse. She had to do something about this, now.

She started by using her claws to scratch at her scales. Then, when the top layer of her skin started to peel off, she understood. Of course. Her … her father had warned her this would happen. She had a flash, a clear image of his face, as he wryly told her that shedding her skin was normal, nothing to worry about. It was such a relief to have another new memory that she almost didn't mind the very uncomfortable circumstances in which it had come. Meanwhile, she continued to do her best to peel off the old skin, with her claws and by rubbing against the rock walls of the cave. The pounding rain actually helped get rid of the smaller pieces she couldn't get at. She turned around as best she could to allow it to reach all of her.

By the time the rain stopped, she had successfully removed most of the old layer of skin. She launched herself into the air right away, heading for the lake. It would be nice to take a dip in the water, even though it would be a little muddy right after such a heavy rainfall. It might even help get rid of any traces of the old skin that were still hanging on, as well.

As she approached the lake, Liz saw herself reflected in one of the pools that wasn't too muddy. Her newly-revealed scales gleamed in the light of the setting sun. She smiled to herself before she folded her wings and plunged into the lake. At least she was staying reasonably healthy. That was something. She allowed her momentum to carry her through the water for a second, and then she shot out of it again. It was a little harder to get airborne from this point, but she did so anyway.

When she arrived back at her cave, Liz looked at the skin she had shed in pieces all around. It was … more than a little weird to see. She could transform, and use her human form to clean it all up, but she found she didn't really want to at the moment. Besides, if she changed back now, the muddy water would stain her one set of clothing. She still wasn't really sure how that whole thing worked, but she knew that much was true.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious about what a water buffalo looks like, I recommend Googling "water buffalo Thailand". They're a pretty common sight here, and always imposing.


	5. Chapter 5

~~~~~~

It was the morning after Samar had arrived, and they had been discussing whether or not the amount of intel they currently had pointed toward moving to another location. There was some indication that she may have been taken to a site in south China, near the borders of Myanmar, Laos, and Thailand. The information was still not very certain, however, so the conversation had ended without much being resolved.

Don and Samar stayed in the meeting area of the hotel where they were all located, seeing if anything else came to mind as they continued to look at the intel from every possible angle. “I just don't get how the sender of these pictures fits in,” he said, sighing and running a hand through his hair. “What do they have to gain from this?”

“Yes, I have a feeling that if we could figure that out, we might be able to be more certain of where she's being held,” said Samar. “It certainly appears that this person has goals apart from those of the Cabal at large. Perhaps he or she will reach out to us another way.”

Just twenty minutes after that, Don got an email alert on his phone. This was odd, since almost no one had this address for him – and most of that small group was in this hotel now. But he checked it, and his eyebrows rose. “It's Whitney Lam.”

“Whitney Lam, Liz's accountant?”

“Yep. I did give her this email in case of emergencies,” said Ressler, already opening the message. “Holy shit. You've got to see this.” It read:

_I think this counts as an emergency. My cousin who I thought was still in HK just called me. He said he saw Ms. K in China a little while ago, and that she was in bad shape. He said he would try to help. He also said he thought you were somewhere near there looking for her. I don't know if this is true, but I thought I should pass the message on. I'm hoping for the best for both of you._

“We need to show this to Reddington,” said Samar.

Don was already composing a reply, but he nodded. Mind whirling, he thanked Whitney for the message, and told her in vague terms that Liz was, indeed, in trouble. Then he said that her cousin's information might be very helpful, and that they would appreciate anything else she could tell them.

Literally as he was handing his phone to Reddington to see the message, though, it rang. He swallowed. “I don't think this is a coincidence,” he said, before answering it. “Hello?”

“Mr. Ressler, I believe my cousin is a friend of yours,” said a man, whose voice was faintly accented. Then he sighed. “You have to understand, if I had known they had a … well, if I had known their captive was who and what she is, I would have stepped in sooner. But I've done what I could. And I started looking for you as soon as I realized your connection to her. You're not easy to find.”

Don had already put the phone on speaker, but now he spoke. “What is it you want me to know?”

“If everything went as planned, she crossed the border more than two weeks ago. I wish I could tell you where she is now. She isn't out of danger – I couldn't stay with her or have my people stay with her, or we would have attracted too much attention. But the last I knew before I lost contact with the team I had with her, she wasn't a captive anymore.”

“What border?” said Ressler, breathing evenly with effort.

There was a pause. “I have to go. Unless your enemies found her again, she's in Thailand.” Then the caller hung up.

“Thailand?” Ressler said. “I guess that narrows it down, at least.” Even without more details, he wanted to be there right now.

“Yes,” said Reddington. His expression was one of controlled tension. “And if she crossed from China into Thailand, we can begin with the expectation that she's not in the south. Unless anyone has an objection, I believe we can count that interaction as confirmation of our next destination. We'll leave for Bangkok in an hour.”

~~~~~~

Much to the growing frustration and fear of everyone involved, they found no new intel upon their arrival in Thailand's huge, crowded capital city. Reddington didn't have any telepathic confirmation that she was in this country, either.

In the unoccupied house where Red had escorted them, Samar told the others her idea to start looking for reports of injured foreigners in hospitals around the country. “Perhaps she'll have avoided hospitals, but it also may be that she didn't have a choice. I've just set an alert for all reports of injured foreigners in the Thai news to be emailed to me. But I suggest we all get in touch with any trustworthy contacts nearby to discreetly ask around, since I doubt every single instance would appear in the news.”

“I had already been pondering certain implications of Elizabeth apparently having been free for so long, without attempting to contact us,” Reddington said, with a nod. “Her having been seriously injured along the way is unfortunately one of the explanations that makes the most sense.”

Ressler blew out a breath, swearing quietly. The dragon was right. There were of course a few other explanations that came to mind, but most of them were even worse.

Though he didn't want to retread the work Samar was already doing, later that day Don glanced through some Thai news sources that were available in English. What he saw in terms of reports of injuries to foreigners seemed to mostly be tourists doing tour-related activities, plus a few traffic accidents. And none of the victims resembled Liz. He didn't know if that was encouraging or whether the constant not knowing was still the worst.

Samar informed him, when he asked, that she hadn't yet seen any reports that resembled Liz, either. “But we know so little about her state of mind at the moment. She may prefer to avoid larger cities, and would no doubt want to avoid catching the eye of the police.”

“True,” said Don. The thought of her totally on her own, being pursued by enemies, in a country where finding people who spoke English was by no means guaranteed made him clench his jaw until it ached. Not that he didn't trust her to be able to take care of herself, but from what they knew, she had to have started off already hurt and most likely traumatized. He knew he and Red were in agreement as to the kinds of things that were going to have to happen to the people who had put her in such a situation, when those people were found.

~~~~~~

It had now been twelve hours since Reddington had announced that they were in the right area. It had been ten since he had felt that Liz was seriously hurt, which put a damper on their relief. Now, it was just a matter of narrowing down her current location as quickly as they could. Samar's discovery of the report about an injured foreigner at the Khon Kaen hospital had been instrumental for putting them on the right path. (Even though the more detailed information had apparently been misfiled and lost, what she had gotten from the nurse who remembered the woman certainly sounded like it could have been Liz.) Unfortunately, and worrisomely, Reddington also said that Liz's mind wasn't clear. That meant it was more difficult now for him to track – and of course confirmed that she was in trouble.

“She's also still not close enough for me to attempt to communicate,” Reddington explained, tension visible in every movement he made. “Which means she's not in this city anymore. Perhaps not even this province. She's somewhere north of here.”

“Isn't north of here almost Laos?” asked Samar. “Would she have been able to cross the border? And why would she go that direction, after having fled China?”

Reddington didn't answer, but after conferring with Dembe, and then having a phone conversation with someone in both Thai and English, he told them, “For now, our best option is to travel north, and I will do my best to narrow down our destination as soon as we're close enough. I have a contact who will provide our transportation.”

They set off a half hour later in a large, comfortable passenger van. Ressler thought the man who had driven it there definitely would have preferred to be responsible for driving it to their destination, but somehow Dembe was behind the wheel, with the vehicle's owner not even accompanying them.

The five of them didn't talk much, each occupied with their own worries. In another situation, Don wished he and Samar could have used this chance to catch up on after so many months – they had been focusing so hard on Liz ever since she had arrived that they'd had little chance to chat. But he couldn't even start to phrase any small talk at this moment. And she didn't seem to be forthcoming, either.

Suddenly, in the front seat, Reddington gasped. It was such an unusually vulnerable sound coming from him that Ressler almost didn't recognize it – until the man followed it up with, “She's in pain again. I don't think it's a new injury, though.”

“Then what the hell is wrong with her?” Ressler said. He only became aware a second or two afterward that he had all but shouted the question.

It didn't matter, however, because Reddington ignored him. “We're still headed in the right direction. But she'll be unable to get herself closer to us, if she's even aware that I'm tracking her. My guess would be that she isn't.”

~~~~~~

When Reddington told Dembe to stop by the side of the road, not close to anywhere in particular, Ressler clenched his jaw. “Out here, in the middle of nowhere? That doesn't make sense. The hospital was weeks ago! What has she been doing since then?” They got out of the car and watched Reddington stare off into the trees.

“If she's been out here since then, I'm beginning to wonder if part of the reason she went to the hospital in the first place might have included a head injury, or something else that could have left her confused,” said Samar.

Ressler was glad he hadn't eaten recently. The idea was nauseating but logical. It would explain why Liz hadn't tried to contact the people who cared about her even though it had apparently been some time since she was held by her original captors.

Reddington, too, looked to be pondering that idea. “That's possible. It's not the cause of her current confusion, however, if she was indeed confused before. I still can't rouse her from this distance, however.”

Once he'd gotten a good idea of where they would be stopping, Reddington had called on another of his contacts, who was an officer in the Thai army. The man met them a few minutes after they'd pulled the van over, driving up in a military Jeep. “Red, my friend, you promise you aren't using these to attack anyone, yes? Just to rescue your friend who is out in the jungle?” The uniformed man smiled cheerily as he got out of the vehicle and approached the group. Ressler saw another Jeep pull in behind him and park, though no one got out of that one.

“Somchai, if I were going to attack someone in Thailand, I'd have asked for considerably more than just two Jeeps,” Reddington replied, with a passable imitation of his usual easy grin. He clapped the man on his shoulder. “I'm afraid the situation with my friend is quite urgent, or I would stay and chat. But once I can be sure she's all right, we should get together. It's been ages since I've had _som tam_ as good as your wife's.”

Somchai beamed again. “No problem. Go save your friend. But you know I need the Jeeps back in one piece, yes?”

“Of course,” said Reddington.

Somchai turned to the other Jeep and shouted what were clearly orders to the two men inside. Then he turned back to Red. “You don't need one of my men to stay and drive for you? He will do as you say.”

“I think we'll manage quite well, but thank you.”

The three uniformed men walked off after that, to where, Ressler couldn't say. 

“Samar, would you be so kind as to drive the second vehicle? Dembe can handle one, but if Elizabeth is as badly off as I fear she may well be, she'll need to lie down, which will take up enough space to require the second.”

Samar nodded, and went to get into the driver's seat of the second Jeep. “Lead the way.”

Ressler joined her, and the party set off. He was trying not to think too much about how bad this whole situation sounded. Liz was alive. After everything they knew she'd been through, and whatever else they didn't know, she was alive. And as they turned off the road into the forest – the jungle, really – they were getting closer to being able to help her.

The trees actually thinned faster than Don was expecting, which made the drive easier. Ahead of them, suddenly, the way opened up to a wide field. There was a lake, and some mountains in view in the distance. It was, he supposed, beautiful, if he'd been in the mindset to be able to appreciate it.

_The mountains,_ Reddington said, with barely a pause as the two vehicles exited the woods. It was hot, for the non-dragons among them, but Red clearly didn't care to allow any kind of break. In fact, had he been sure of being able to get his daughter safely back to civilization by himself, Ressler had no doubt that there would be a red dragon flying directly to where Liz was right now.

Despite the terrain that was very much not ideal for cars, they reached the base of the small mountains within minutes. Reddington called for them to stop again. It took only a moment for Ressler to see what the dragon had noticed. There was a cave partway up the steep face of the tree-covered mountain closest to them, more than fifty feet up, with a ledge sticking out of it. And, lying motionless halfway out of that cave, there was a huge copper dragon.

_Lizzie!_ Red was already out of the car, and trying to wake her. _Lizzie, can you wake up for me?_

There was no response. She was too far away for Ressler to be able to see whether she stirred at all. “How are we going to get her down? If she was able to fly, she'd obviously already be on the ground, at least.”

“She still won't wake,” Reddington said, his face drawn.

“Keep trying, dearie,” said Mr. Kaplan, patting his arm.

He craned his neck to stare up at the ledge. “We need to know what the nature of the problem is, but there's no room for another dragon there. Still. I'll get a closer look.” Then he took off his hat and handed it to Dembe, before striding quickly several yards away.

Ressler tried not to be annoyed that only Red could get to Liz right now, as he watched the red dragon take off and gain altitude. His approach to the cave scared off a small group of crows that had gathered nearby, and Ressler felt ill as his mind filled in what they had been waiting for. But that wasn't going to happen now. Reddington continued to try to rouse her as he flew by the cave twice, paused as well as he could in front of it, and then landed again. _She certainly has been out here for weeks,_ he told the rest of them in a subdued voice. _And the time was not kind to her, even before her injury._

Ressler swallowed. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what Reddington meant by that. “Were you able to find out what happened to her?”

_She has her wing over the injured leg, so I wasn't able to get a good look,_ Reddington said, _but I believe it may be infected._

“I'll start prepping an IV and antibiotics,” said Mr. Kaplan. “I hope your army friend's field kits are well stocked.”

“But she has to wake up enough to transform, for there to be any chance of you getting her down from there,” said Ressler, running a hand over his face. This was unpleasantly like the time Liz had been shot in her dragon form, but that time she'd been a lot more lucid. Which was saying something.

_I'm aware of that, Donald,_ Reddington snapped. His wings twitched, and he gazed back up toward Liz. _Lizzie, you need to wake up so we can help you. Can you hear me?_

As Reddington continued to speak to Liz, Samar leaned over to Don and asked him in a low voice, “Is it just me, or does she look... different? Her color, I mean? It's been a while since I've seen her, but it doesn't look quite right.”

Don shaded his eyes against the sun that had just broken through the clouds, and looked carefully at Liz. At first, he hadn't noticed. But his heart sank as he took in the change. “Damn it. I don't think it's just you. She's... the color's not as bright.” He could not imagine that was a good thing. Maybe that was part of what Reddington had meant about the time spent here not having been kind to her.

Finally, Reddington straightened up and shot the others a quick glance. _I think I finally got through to her._ There was even more warmth in his voice as he encouraged Liz to come fully back to consciousness. It became a sharp, desperate command a minute later, however. _No! You must not go back there. I need you to stay awake._

Ressler realized he was holding his breath, and forced himself to exhale. He wished there was anything he could do right now to help. It was driving him crazy that he could barely even see Liz. For all he knew, she was moments away from dying. She certainly couldn't be too far off, if there had been carrion birds gathering.

_Good. I need to come up there now, Lizzie,_ Red said, calmer. _Do you understand? If you change to human form, I can come and get you down._ And then his tone changed once again, this time to one heavy with both grief and tenderness. _I won't let you die today, Lizzie. None of us will. All you have to do is change, and we'll take care of the rest. We'll take care of you._

So it was that urgent. Ressler was still finding it difficult to breathe, but he made himself keep functioning. He would be utterly useless to Liz if he just flipped out now. Still, it was vaguely comforting to note that everyone else on the ground seemed to be waiting just as breathlessly.

Eventually, she must have grasped the necessity. Slower than usual, it seemed, the copper dragon shrank down to a sprawled human figure who was even harder to see from this angle. Reddington instantly took off again, and although it took him more than one approach, he picked her up in his right front claw and then landed awkwardly on three legs. Ressler and Dembe were there to receive her so that Reddington could transform again.

Ressler wanted to be relieved when he looked down at her in his arms, after all this time. But the sight of her, extremely pale apart from the spots of color in her cheeks, dirty, sweating and feverish, as well as painfully thin, was like a punch to the gut. She didn't seem conscious, though her body trembled occasionally. The reason for the fever became clear quickly – her upper left arm was streaked alarmingly with red, swollen lines, around a bandage that looked none too clean. The material was torn from her shirt, he saw, which made his stomach clench again.

“Bring her here,” Mr. Kaplan instructed. “Lay her on the seat.”

He and Dembe did so, and he took the alcohol wipe from the older woman silently as she positioned the IV bag. “She'll be dehydrated. Back of the hand,” said Mr. Kaplan, and though he winced as the needle went in, Liz didn't move.

“What kind of antibiotics does this kit have?” Ressler asked, clearing his throat.

“It won't be enough to fight off this infection, but it's a start,” said the woman, injecting a syringe into the IV bag, which was now hooked over one of the bars of the frame of the Jeep. Then, gingerly, she raised Liz's left arm. “Please, take off the bandage.”

His partner still didn't react, up until the moment he actually pulled the strip of cloth off. It had caught on the wound, and she cried out weakly when it came unstuck. “Sorry, Liz,” he whispered, and then had to cover his mouth with his other hand at the sight of the wound itself. There wasn't much blood, but it had clearly not healed. It was swollen, and oozing something he didn't want to examine closely.

Mr. Kaplan drew a sharp breath, then broke the seal on the med kit's bottle of saline solution to rinse the area. “Looks like it could have been a puncture of some kind,” she remarked. “If so, she's very lucky it didn't go in as far as the bone.” Her patient whimpered faintly when she used gauze to very gently wipe off the saline. Then Reddington's lieutenant applied what looked like a very large Band-Aid, taped it on with medical tape, and nodded. “That will do for now.”

“Give her something for the pain, too,” said Reddington, voice hoarse. “She doesn't need to be jostled awake during the trip to the hospital.”

“Where are we taking her? We don't know for sure that the Cabal isn't still somewhere nearby, looking for any sign of her,” said Ressler.

“Somchai has kindly offered to allow us into the military hospital, anonymously,” said Reddington. “Let's go.”

Mr. Kaplan climbed into the back with Liz, to keep her steady and make sure the IV stayed where it needed to be. Ressler didn't want to be separated from Liz, but he did know that Samar wasn't going to be able to focus on watching her own back and driving at the same time. That was especially true at the speed they were traveling.

The trip, while not incredibly long, took enough time that Ressler had ample chance for his horror at Liz's condition to totally sink in. Quite apart from the awful puncture wound (and what the hell had given her that?), she looked like she was on the brink of starving. Though she had obviously been hunting to keep herself alive – he had seen the dried blood on her hands – it had just as obviously not been close to enough. And he thought he'd noticed a new scar on her other arm that might have been from a bullet. The roughness of the ride wasn't helping him hold down the nausea these facts produced in him.

“Ressler,” Samar said, once they'd gotten back to the road, “you're going to keep it together, right? Because if you lose it now, I swear I'll push you out of this Jeep. I won't even slow down first.”

Ressler breathed slowly, letting his head drop into his hands. “I won't lose it,” he said, through clenched teeth. He almost had to yell to be heard over the wind rushing through the open vehicle. “I just can't... I can't believe she was out there, literally a few steps away from starving to death. And during this whole time, I've got to think she must have been terrified to be anywhere near other people, on top of everything else.”

He saw rather than heard Samar heaving a sigh. “I understand. But Reddington said she'd been there for weeks. Somehow, in such an awful situation, she kept going. She stayed alive.”

“Barely,” he said bleakly.

“Even so,” she insisted. “She didn't give up.”

“Of course she didn't,” said Ressler, sitting up. With all the shit life had thrown at her, from before he had even met her, she had never given up.

“Right. Which means there's no reason to expect her to give up now, either,” Samar said.

“I'm sure she won't,” he agreed. And he was. His eyes found what was visible of Liz's still form in the Jeep ahead of them. “But... we were happy. Before the Cabal's people found us, we'd made a life together. It was almost normal – as close as we're ever going to get.”

Samar took a minute or so to answer. “I'm glad to hear that. I hoped that for you both.”

Don blinked. “Uh, thanks.” She hadn't come out and said it, but she was still right that having that chance with Liz was something to be thankful for. He tried to focus on that, rather than how insanely unfair it was that the woman he loved had just been through yet another life-threatening trauma, and wasn't out of the woods yet.

Just as they were nearing what looked like a main road, there was a loud noise of engines revving behind them. Don turned in his seat and then immediately turned back. “Get down! We've got company!” He made sure to think it as 'loudly' as possible, too, in case those in the lead car didn't hear the shout.

Shots rang out a second later, and Don ducked and peered around his seat at the unmarked pickup behind them. Everyone except the driver – and that included at least four men in the bed of the truck – was armed, and they were all aiming at the two Jeeps.

As more bullets whizzed toward them, Samar shouted, “How many?”

“Six, I think. Five armed,” was his reply. Then he swore. “One of them has a semi-automatic.” Leaning around his seat again, he fired his own pistol. The had gone over a bump at that exact moment, and his first shot went wide. But his second hit one of their assailants in the neck. “Four gunmen now.”

When Don glanced forward to check on the car that carried Red, Liz, Dembe, and Mr. Kaplan, he saw that it looked like both Red and Mr. Kaplan had their guns ready. Mr. Kaplan, of course, was distracted by watching out for Liz. And Don didn't think Reddington had much opportunity for a clear shot with Samar right on their tail. But that worked two ways – with the second Jeep positioned in that manner, their enemies had less of a chance to get to Liz or anyone else in the lead car. Don assumed Red would prefer this arrangement even though it meant he and his lieutenant had less chance to personally defend themselves.

The next spray of bullets from the semi-automatic weapon broke their rearview mirror and caused Samar to duck and swerve slightly. They couldn't keep this up, Don thought grimly. If nothing else, the guy with the semi-automatic had to go.

_They all have to go, Donald,_ came Red's voice in his head, immediately after he'd finished that thought. _If you can get the truck to crash, then we'll be in decent shape. I fear that if even one of our pursuers escapes to report back, on the other hand, then we may be heading for a siege at the hospital._

Hoping Red had heard his acknowledgement, Don peered around the seat again and aimed for the driver. At the last second, though, he changed his mind. “We're going to need to speed up a lot, in just a second, if I make this shot.” He was no sniper, especially not with this weapon, but he could do it.

Samar glanced at him, then raised her eyebrows as she figured out what he meant. She nodded. Reddington, too, told him, _I've informed Dembe. Good luck._

And so Don narrowed his focus to his target and did his best not to let the unevenness of the road or the continuing gunfire disrupt his concentration. Then he held his breath and fired – and then quickly sat facing forward. “Go!”

The explosion from the truck's gas tank still nearly pushed them off the road, despite Samar (and evidently Dembe) flooring it. Don felt his head hit some part of the car in front of him hard enough for him to see stars, and there were shouts. “Is everyone okay?” he called, when some of the noise had died down. He put a hand to his forehead, which hurt like hell, and it came away with blood on it.

“I'm fine,” said Samar breathlessly. “And the Jeep is still functioning, which is good.”

_We're all accounted for,_ Reddington said. _A few scrapes and bruises. Nothing serious. Well done, Donald. That would have been a tricky shot from your angle in the best of circumstances._

The other man sounded genuinely impressed, which was not something he got from Red very often. Don leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. He was very glad it had worked.

_Yes. But don't let your guard down yet – we can't be sure we're out of danger until we're inside the hospital grounds. At that point, my Lieutenant Colonel friend should be able to keep us out of trouble._

Wiping away the blood that had now dripped into his eye, Don sighed. Then he turned around to look behind them. Apart from the smoking wreck of the pickup, he couldn't see anything of note. But Red was right: he could rest later, once Liz was being treated and there was a break in the flow of people coming after them.


	6. Chapter 6

~~  
It took two days after that for everything to go bad.

First, it rained steadily for a whole day. This meant Liz wasn't out hunting. That meant she didn't sleep well that night, because she was too hungry. In turn, that led to her being both tired and ravenous the following morning. Today was going to have to be a day where she took down a water buffalo. She didn't have the energy or patience to spend a long time searching for wild prey.

But then it took her longer than she expected to find any buffalo nearby, and even longer to find a decent-sized group of them. And then when she did, she must not have realized just how tired she was. She ended up misjudging the angle of her attack, coming in too low. She did manage to correct in time to deliver the killing blow to the animal's head – but not in time to avoid it rearing up and stabbing into the flesh just under her left foreleg with one of its horns before it died. Liz let out a scream of pain, which made the other buffalo increase the speed at which they fled. She struggled to regain enough altitude that she could land rather than falling into the shallow waters of the rice field. Normally with a buffalo, she would carry it back to her den rather than stay exposed in a field, but she didn't think she could do that now.

Liz splashed down into the field, breathing hard. She folded her wings and tried to look at the injury. It was hard to see, but it didn't look too deep, at least. She could feel blood running down her side, though. She'd take a closer look when she got back to the den … assuming she could make it.

Liz ate her kill with much less satisfaction than usual. The pain of the injury was getting worse rather than better as she stood there, even when she did her best not to put any weight on that leg. But since she had a bad feeling about when she'd next be able to hunt, she ate as much of the buffalo as she could. Then she lay down awkwardly, trying to keep her wounded leg out of the muddy water, and rested for a while. At least she couldn't sense anyone nearby at the moment.

When she had rested long enough that the idea of flying didn't seem too awful, Liz got up and gingerly put down her left leg. It pulled at the wound site, but not too unbearably so. Pushing off the ground, however, caused a sharp spike in her pain levels. Her takeoff was far from graceful, and her flight back to the cave was labored.

Liz transformed as soon as she was able, gasping again at the pain of her injury. When she put her hand to it, it came away red with blood. Wincing, Liz walked to the back of her cave, where she had stored her precious remaining drinking water. She had found an unopened bottle during some of her wanderings, which she had been parceling out ever since then, every time she was thirsty in her human form. (Her dragon form seemed to be able to handle the local water supply just fine, but she wasn't willing to risk it while human.) Now, though, she had to use some of it to try to make sure her wound was clean. She knew puncture wounds were dangerous – and she assumed that was still the case even when they were made by something as large as a buffalo horn.

Awkwardly, she held up her left arm and poured out some of the water on the hole on the underside. It stung, but she thought it had done some good. She wished she had some clean cloth to use to bandage and stop the bleeding, but she didn't. That wasn't good. That meant she had to choose between using her shirt – which, while not filthy, was definitely not close to sterile – or allowing the wound to stay exposed to the air.

She decided in the end to leave it exposed to the air. It wasn't bleeding too badly anymore. Just as she was about to sit back against the cave wall to try to sleep, she thought of the little bottle of paracetamol in her bag of supplies from the temple. Mostly one-handed, she shook out two pills and swallowed them with a sip of water. They obviously wouldn't get rid of the pain completely, but they might lessen it enough that she would be able to sleep.

When Liz woke up early the following morning, she was alarmed to find that her injury didn't look or feel better. In fact, it was worse: though it wasn't bleeding, the area around the newly formed scab was red and swollen. It was also extremely tender to the touch. Liz bit her lip. These were signs of infection. And she was all but trapped here, in her den. She had no idea how far it was to the nearest hospital or clinic, even if she was sure she could make it back to civilization. But the longer she waited, the worse it would get.

While she tried to figure out her next move, Liz went ahead and tore off a section of the bottom of her shirt – the least dirty part she could find – and made a crude bandage with it. It was not at all easy to tie it around her arm with one hand. After several tries, though, she got it. Further exposure couldn't be good, so at least she could avoid that.

Later that morning, she still hadn't come up with a good solution. She had no doubt she would attract a lot of attention if she even made it to a town, and she didn't know if the man from the bus was hanging around the area in hopes of finding her again. If he did, there was no way she could outrun him this time. But if she stayed here, it wouldn't take long before the infection got bad enough that she was effectively immobilized. Then she would die of thirst and starvation, if the infection didn't kill her first.

By noon, she had decided she would at least try to fly out of here, hiding herself from view until she got to a likely-looking town. She would not go back the way she had come originally, though. That would at least reduce the chances of the man from the bus finding her quickly.

But when she transformed and attempted to take off, the agony pushing against the ground produced in her leg made her bellow again. She barely avoided sliding down the side of the hill and getting hopelessly tangled in the bushes and trees. Panting, Liz got to her feet and stared down from the mouth of the cave. If she purposefully stepped off the edge, the dropoff wasn't steep enough for her to catch herself in flight before she hit the side of the mountain. She would crash long before she could get airborne. There was no safe route for a human to climb down from here, either – or at least not one that she could see. She was trapped. She had trapped herself.

With a heavy, leaden feeling in her stomach, Liz turned and went back inside her cave. She was going to die. She didn't want to lie around and wait for it to happen – but she didn't want to give up and make it happen faster, either. If she stayed in human form, her metabolism would be slower. That would keep her alive for a while longer, right? And maybe, if her father and the man she loved were looking for her, they would find her. It was a slim hope, but she didn't want to let go of it.

She changed back in the far corner of the cave, and curled up tightly in on herself. There was a little bit of fresh blood on the bandage, but it hadn't soaked through. Liz sighed and shut her eyes. In a few hours, she would take a few more pain pills. They would probably be the only thing she ate today, which would not sit well in her stomach. But she didn't see that she had any other options.

Hunger brought her out of her uneasy doze a few hours later. She became fully aware of the pain a second after that. She reached out for the plastic bag and pulled it toward her. Her water bottle was now less than half-full … and she was so thirsty, as well. She was most likely developing a fever on top of everything else.

Despite her thirst, Liz drank as sparingly as she could with the painkillers. They would keep her fever down for a while, too. She wasn't sure if that was really a good thing, with the bacteria that were no doubt running rampant in her body. But again, it was the best choice she had.

It wasn't too long before her fever climbed even with the paracetamol. She didn't have enough water to keep taking it, anyway. She started to drift in and out of feverish dreams, shivering and sweating on the cave floor. She barely noticed her hunger anymore, as it was surpassed by the pain of her wound and by her thirst. She had drunk every last drop of her water during one of her more lucid periods. There was no point in saving it.

 

Liz was on the balcony of an extraordinarily elegant hotel room, looking out over the city. The temperature was pleasant, especially with the breeze off the ocean. She knew he was behind her, even though he didn't say anything.

“So, you don't hate the idea.”

She turned around at that, one eyebrow raised. “Of course I don't. Please tell me you weren't actually worried I would hate it.”

He shrugged, and looked a little nervous. “No, not really. But your, uh, previous marriage...”

“Was to a man who doesn't know the definition of the word 'truth',” she finished for him. Then she smiled, and reached up to lay her hand on his face. “Whereas I have absolute faith in your honesty.”

He took her hand and kissed it, even as he shook his head. “Well, whether or not I agree with that, I appreciate it,” he said. Then he took a breath. “So, uh, if I were to ask you for real at some point in the near future, you might say yes?”

“You're taking a little bit of the risk out of this, aren't you?” But she relented when she saw he was serious, stepping closer to him and looking up into his face. “Yes, Ressler. There's a very good chance.”

Ressler smiled, and kissed her once. “Good.”

Liz responded, deepening the kiss, and then pulled back so she could rest her head against his chest. She knew they both would prefer to have a little bit more stability in their lives before they took this next step – but she also knew for herself that she was getting tired of waiting. And Ressler was, too, apparently. A thought struck her, and she chuckled.

“What?” Don's voice resonated through her.

“Nothing.” She tilted her head up. “Just glad you're not scared off by the prospect of who you're preparing to take on as a father-in-law.”

He snorted. “Don't think I haven't thought about that aspect more than once, because I have.” Then his tone softened, and he stroked her face. “But no, that doesn't scare me off.”

 

A crack of thunder and the sound of pouring rain brought Liz mostly awake. She blinked slowly. For several seconds all she was able to grasp was that she now knew the name of the man she had thought was her boyfriend – and she knew they were considering getting engaged soon. Those were important things to know. Then she realized there was a source of plentiful water very close by, if she were in the right form to take advantage of it.

Liz succeeded in moving a little closer to the cave entrance, even though any movement jarred her arm. The infection was getting worse, she saw: the redness and swelling had spread, though not a lot yet.

When she had moved as far as she could, Liz transformed and then rolled so that she was lying on her right side. It was still pouring, and the water felt good on her skin even before she opened her mouth and did her best to drink.

The rain continued for some time. Once it stopped, it again took Liz several minutes to notice the difference. She also noticed that the fever and pain didn't seem so bad in this form. Maybe she should stay in her true form. But there was some reason why it was a bad idea to stay like this. She squinted, trying to bring that reasoning to mind. Eventually she gave up. Maybe it would come back to her later.

She had no idea how long she lay there with her head out of the cave and her sore left leg in the least painful position she could find. At some point, she became aware that there were flies landing on her, at the wound site. A flap of her left wing chased them away for the moment. But they'd be back. She wouldn't keep them away for long. After that thought, she drifted back into semiconsciousness.

Once, she dreamed about hunting. The sensations of flight and of diving down to kill the deer seemed so real that she tried to move. That, of course, made her leg hurt so badly that she was shocked awake for a few minutes. She hissed and raised her head, startling the birds that had been around her at the cave entrance. But the pain went back down to a more tolerable level, and Liz closed her eyes after she covered the wound with her wing against the persistent attention of flies.

She slipped back into restless sleep. The next dream began back at the temple. She was in human form, lying on her thin mattress, but the mattress was being carried on a golden litter. She still felt just as terrible, feverish, thirsty, and achy. But the litter was surrounded by dozens of excited Thai people, all trying to get a glimpse of her, and in some cases trying to touch her. Liz tried to pull away from some of the reaching hands. That was when she felt something strange at her back. She turned over her shoulder as best she could … and saw that, though she was still in her human form, she had copper-colored wings folded at her back. “What the hell?” She tried to sit up, but the litter shook at just that moment, and she fell forward, spreading her wings instinctively. The crowd gasped. She heard many of them repeating _mangkon_ , the Thai word for dragon, and they all surged closer. Liz folded her wings and drew in on herself. This was too much. She couldn't...

The raucous call of a crow, right next to her, brought Liz out of that dream. Even when she opened her eyes, though, she had a hard time focusing on anything of her surroundings. There was a fluttering sound as the crow flew away. Her foreleg still hurt – or was it her arm? She sighed and shut her eyes again.

For the next endless number of hours, Liz lay while memories and dreams swirled together in her mind. Underneath the fever and the confusion, in her periods of lucidity there was the certainty that she wasn't going to last too much longer like this. And she had wanted to see Ressler and her father again. Raymond Reddington. She knew his name. She remembered a lot more of the past several years now. They had been difficult, challenging, and often painful, but she had gained so much through the events of those years, too. She wished she hadn't trapped herself here, to die slowly, separated from her loved ones. More than that, she wished she had never been taken to Thailand. There was still nothing in her memory of how she had gotten to this country.

At her lowest point, she dreamed about staring into the face of a man – a dragon – whom she knew to be cruel, malicious, and dangerous. He was taunting her silently, telling her how he would destroy her and everyone she cared about. She had to stop him. She fired her weapon. And then she was in a dark room with the smell of smoke around her, watching in dismay as two adults argued in front of her. Her mother. Her father? He was hurting her. But there was a gun... She could stop him.

Her periods of mental clarity grew fewer and fewer. She sank deeper into unconsciousness. It was deep enough that when the voice started to call her name, it seemed to take ages for her to even hear it. And then when she heard it, it took even longer for her to follow it back to awareness.

_Lizzie. Lizzie, please. You need to wake up. We need to get you out of here._

She concentrated on that voice. It had been so long since she had heard it in anything but memories, but she knew it. She knew him.

_There you are_ , she heard him say after a few more seconds of her struggle against the looming blackness. _You're doing well, Lizzie. Keep going._

She hadn't been sure she was making any progress at all – but it seemed she was. He said she was. Movement of any kind was still beyond her, though.

Finally, as the voice continued to guide her, Liz climbed out of the black pit she'd fallen into. Now she was aware of other things aside from the voice: thirst, hunger, pain, and the sound of people speaking out loud not too far away. She made a small, involuntary sound of distress as she focused on the pain in her leg.

_I know it hurts,_ he said, his voice gentle. _But we're here to help you now. Can you open your eyes?_

Liz didn't – couldn't – respond for the space of several breaths. But then she tried and succeeded. She was still lying at the front of her den. There was no one else in the cave with her – but through bleary eyes she thought she saw a group of people and a huge red dragon at the base of the hill below her. Her eyes slipped shut again. She tried to summon up the energy to say something, but didn't quite make it. She was glad that she wasn't alone anymore. On the other hand, it was very tempting to sink back into the place she'd been, where she wasn't in pain.

_No!_ Now his tone was sharp. _You must not go back there. I need you to stay awake. Do you understand?_

She flinched at the harsh edge of his voice. But she did her best to keep listening.

_Good._ He sounded relieved. _I need to come up there now, Lizzie. If you change to human form, I can come and get you down._

Change? That took more effort than she was confident she could manage. But then she thought through the rest of what he had said. Maybe she didn't have to die here.

_Oh, my dear Lizzie. No._ But this wasn't angry or sharp. It felt like an embrace. _I won't let you die today, Lizzie. None of us will._ He repeated that all she had to do was transform, and that they would take care of everything else.

Liz took a breath. She would try. As she had thought would be the case, she didn't seem to have as easy of a time as she usually had accessing the power needed to transform. But eventually she did. Nothing about her pain levels or other sources of discomfort changed when she became human, though the process of changing itself had hurt her arm a little.

A few seconds later, she felt herself lifted off the ground. Whatever was holding her, it didn't put any added pressure on her injury. She sighed and relaxed into unconsciousness.

~


	7. Chapter 7

~  
She didn't wake up fully for some time, though she came close on a couple of occasions. Each time she almost roused, she heard familiar voices that comforted her even as she came dangerously close to awareness of the pain she knew was waiting.

When she opened her eyes, it didn't take her long to realize she was in a hospital. Her left arm was extended and resting on a little tray in front of her, so that the upper part wasn't touching anything. There was a thick bandage over the area she knew was the wound site. There was also an IV line in the back of her hand.

Liz was tired and muddled enough that she was about to allow herself to drop back off to sleep, when she heard what sounded like a muffled announcement over an intercom. The male voice was speaking Thai, Liz could tell. But that made sense. It was only when a Thai man in a uniform walked past the windows of the room she was in that she started to panic. He might have been a police officer, or some other kind of officer, but the point was that the authorities knew where she was. And that meant the others would find her soon. She had to get out of here.

With a gasp, Liz used her right hand to throw off the thin sheet covering her. Staring at the door, she tried to sit up – only to fall back when her change in position caused a headache, dizziness, and nausea to awaken. It also pulled at her arm, which only hurt in a distant kind of way. Liz shut her eyes tightly as the world spun around her. There was no way she could escape while she was feeling like this. This was bad.

“Liz?”

Her eyes flew open again. She hadn't looked to her left side at all. That was where this voice had come from. She turned her head just fractionally, and stared. The man in the chair stared back at her.

“Ressler.” Her voice was hoarse. It didn't even sound like her at all. But from the way he smiled, she might as well have just said something profound. The world had stopped spinning, mostly, which was good because she wanted to be able to look at him.

“Yeah, I'm here, Liz,” he said. His voice sounded a little hoarse, too, but still so familiar. He reached out a cautious hand and touched her cheek.

Liz closed her eyes for a moment. He was here. Then she remembered what had alarmed her just seconds ago, and stared at Ressler with renewed urgency. Words seemed to come to her with difficulty, though. “Police,” she said at last. She recalled she didn't have to talk that way, either. _They know where I am?_

He looked confused, but he shook his head. “You're not in any danger from the police. This is a military hospital, and Reddington has friends here.”

She blinked. He sounded pretty certain that she was safe. She took a deep breath. Maybe she was. Unless this was just a dream. At any rate, she couldn't stay awake any longer. At least she had seen and spoken to Ressler, and he said her father was nearby. And she wasn't in pain.

The next time she woke up, she was in a dark, cold room with her arms chained to the wall behind her. There was a gag in her mouth. Her left arm hurt, badly, and she was terrified. This was not where she was supposed to be. She had gotten out of here already.

That was when the door to the cell opened, and Tom Connolly walked in, smiling broadly. His face was pale and bloodless, but that hadn't changed his air of confidence at all. “You didn't get rid of me, Elizabeth,” he said, bending over to look at her, “although I do have to give you credit for trying. I didn't expect that level of brutality from you. Perhaps I should have, though, considering your parentage.”

Liz pulled away the few inches her manacles allowed her to move. She wanted to turn her face away from the murdered man in front of her, but she couldn't. Connolly smiled again. “You're stuck here for good, Miss Keen. No escape for you this time.” He followed her horrified gaze down to the dark red stain on his chest. “Oh, don't worry. It doesn't hurt anymore. But yours will.”

She finally managed to scream then around the cloth gag, and to thrash. But she was still chained to the wall, and her movement did nothing but cause searing pain in her arm. Even when her foot connected with the sneering dragon in front of her, he barely reacted. But there were other sounds around her – sounds of voices that she knew, and they all sounded worried and upset. If they were here, they needed to help her get out of this place. She thought she might have begged them to help her. And eventually, she heard them assure her they would help. Connolly was gone. She wasn't in that dark hole. Maybe she was safe.

When she next opened her eyes, she saw the hospital ceiling above her, and heard the hum and beep of hospital machinery around her. She furrowed her brow. How long had she been here? She remembered talking to Ressler briefly, but she also thought she remembered--

Her heart monitor's rhythmic beeping started to speed up as she recalled the horrific – dream? Had it only been a dream?

“It's okay, Liz,” came Ressler's voice from her left. “You're safe. You're in a hospital in Thailand. We found you, and you're not in danger.”

She turned her head toward him, just the slightest bit. There he was. She was so tired. She shut her eyes.

Over the next several times she woke up, Liz knew where she was. But she found herself dealing with the fact that it was strange, now, to always have someone she cared about who cared about her, at her side. It wasn't a bad kind of strange, to be sure, but it was something she had to re-accustom herself to. That also included carrying on conversations. She found it hard to hold up her end of them. Her father, Ressler, and Samar were patient with her, though. They didn't seem to expect more than she could give.

When Red was with her during these times, he told her lighthearted stories, which didn't require her to do more than listen and react. As for Ressler, he held her hand and sat quietly with her, or gave her a few little updates on how her organization was doing. She could tell he wasn't telling her all the details, but that didn't bother her right now. She could also tell that he was concerned about her, but she appreciated that he didn't push her. Then there was Samar. Liz was still touched that her second lieutenant had come to join the search for her, and then stayed after she was found. Samar didn't take quite as many shifts as Red or Ressler, but when Liz did wake up to the other woman in the chair, Samar would share some stories from what she had been up to since the end of the task force. Or sometimes she would read aloud from an English-language newspaper, and offer her own commentary. All of these people that she loved helped Liz in different ways to ground herself back in the world of humanity, after her time away and all she had undergone.

The other strange thing that Liz thought shouldn't be that strange was the availability of food. At first, of course, they had to reintroduce nutrients slowly and carefully. Once she graduated from straight IV nutrients (which didn't take long), she was given simple, easy-to-digest fare in small portions, several times throughout the day. That wasn't odd. The odd thing was that it was just right there whenever she needed it. She didn't have to remain in a constant state of hunger. And there was always a pitcher of ice water by her bedside. It was also sort of weird to eat food with different flavors, since when she hunted, her dragon self didn't care much about the taste of what she ate. But now she was back in the world of variety – even the limited variety that her stomach could handle after her starvation diet.

The nurses came in to check her wound and change the bandage on her arm twice each day. It was healing well, now that the infection was well under control. Red had told her that they had to open it up to clean it out, but that the bacteria hadn't had time to spread too badly. She was glad of that, and glad that it didn't hurt much at all anymore. She could also tell that they were all curious about what had caused the injury. She didn't intend for it to be a secret, but explaining it was beyond her at the moment. Any kind of sustained speech was beyond her right now.

On the third day of her hospital stay, Liz had started to take short walks around the hospital corridor where her room was located. Red had assured her this wing of the hospital was mostly deserted, and that no one would bother her. He and Dembe accompanied her on her first walk, and Ressler was with her on the second one, which took place after lunch.

During these walks, Liz was encouraged to find that, although she started to feel tired quickly, it wasn't extreme exhaustion. It was more like she'd done some hard work (although admittedly ten minutes of walking shouldn't feel like hard work) and wanted to rest. It was probably good that she had her IV pole for support on her left side, and Ressler on her right.

As Ressler led her back toward her room, she happened to look up at a TV screen in what seemed to be a waiting room. It was showing a Thai news station. Right at that moment, the image on the screen was that of a temple. A monk was in front of the temple, speaking into the camera.

Liz stopped walking. She looked more closely at the screen. It wasn't the same temple, but the architecture and general layout were very similar.

“Liz? You okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah.” She turned back toward him and gave him a small smile. She should say something else, probably. “Let's go.”

When they got back to her room, Liz sat down on her bed with a sigh, and moved her IV pole back to where it was supposed to be. Ressler took his usual place in the chair. He regarded her curiously. “What was that about – with the TV back there?”

Liz knew he wanted to know about what had happened to her before they found her. But he hadn't pushed. This was as close as he'd even gotten to asking about it. “There was a boy and his mother,” she said, into the brief silence. Then she shook her head. That wasn't really the way to start the story, but the words still came harder than she wanted them to come. “They were telepaths. It must have run in their family.”

“Okay,” said Ressler after a moment. She could feel his mingled confusion and worry for her. “Did-- did they do something to you?”

She shook her head. “No. But they recognized me for what I am, before I remembered it myself.” She was still telling this all in the wrong order. She was aware that Red was standing at the doorway of her room now, but she kept looking in Ressler's direction. “They drove me to a temple.”

Ressler opened his mouth to say something, but then he just shut it again. His worry had increased. But he leaned forward and said calmly, “Okay. So they knew you're a dragon. Why take you to a temple?”

Liz dropped her gaze to her hands. “I guess … they thought I was some creature out of their religious mythology.” She wanted to add that she hadn't had anywhere else to go, but the words didn't come out.

“Whoa.” Don sounded a little like she'd felt when she had realized this. When she didn't keep going, he said, “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but what do you mean when you say those two telepaths knew about you before you remembered it?”

“I hit my head,” she said in response, meeting his gaze again. “Or someone knocked me out. I don't know which.” God, when she listened to herself, she sounded like a moron. There was a way she should tell this story, but she couldn't get it straight.

“And that made you forget things about yourself?” came Red's voice from the doorway.

She took a slow breath, and then confessed, “Everything. At first.” Her voice wavered.

“My God, Liz.” Ressler stood up and went to pull her into a hug. Liz leaned into him gratefully, shutting her eyes. She could still easily bring to mind how terrifying it had been to have nothing but blankness in her memories when she tried to search through them.

“All I had on me was a receipt,” she said, after she had taken several shuddering breaths. “That helped me remember my name, because it was from Kelly's.”

He gave a startled laugh. “That bar and grill place we used to go in DC?”

“Yeah,” said Liz. She smiled. “I could almost remember that time I said we should split the bill. So you tore the receipt in half and gave me one of the halves.”

He returned the smile. “And you kept that piece of a receipt? All the way until – the day you went missing?” As soon as those words left his mouth, Ressler looked like he regretted them.

Liz's smile disappeared. She felt cold suddenly. “I still don't … remember much about that. Almost nothing.” She started to breathe faster. All she had from that time was that feeling of danger, that she was being hunted. And that dark room... But she wasn't there, right now. She was safe, she tried to tell herself.

“That's okay,” Don said quickly. “You don't have to worry about it at all.”

“No, you don't,” added Red. “But when you're ready, we can tell you however much you want to know of what we've pieced together about that period of time, and how you got out.”

Liz gave a jerky nod, clinging to Don's hand. She was trying to regulate her breathing, calm herself back down, but it was difficult. And this difficulty worried her. But then the room started to seem too small. This space was too enclosed. She pushed away from Ressler, almost knocking over her IV pole in the process, and stood up.

“Liz?” He took a step toward her, but stopped when she stepped back.

“Don't crowd her, Donald,” her father said, his voice a low warning. “The fight-or-flight instinct is still very strong and close to the surface, isn't it, Lizzie? And it could end up a trifle more literal when it comes to flight.”

It was hard to follow what was being said right now. Only part of her mind wasn't overwhelmed by her instinctual reaction to barely-remembered danger. But that part noted that Ressler looked stricken. He backed away a few more steps and raised his hands. “I'm sorry, Liz,” he whispered. “You-- you know I'd never do anything to hurt you, right?”

It took her several seconds, but finally she processed what was happening. Liz took a breath and walked unsteadily back to her bed. She didn't want to look at either of the two men. But she had to give Ressler something. “Yeah,” she said, after a long pause, as she climbed onto the bed. “I know.” And she did – or at least, the rational part of her did, without a doubt. It frustrated and alarmed her that her instincts had so much power to control her right now.

“We'll give you a little more space for the moment, all right, Lizzie?” said Red.

She nodded, staring down at her hands. Their concern was obvious, though Red kept his more restrained. She didn't want to handle their worries about her on top of her own.

Later that day, after her next meal, her father came into the room and sat down in the chair. He didn't speak at first, just regarded her with one of his more inscrutable expressions. Then he cleared his throat. “I get the feeling you're frustrated with yourself and how your readjustment is going, Lizzie.”

Liz swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. I know I should … give myself time, but...”

“But that doesn't change the fact that you're scheduled to be discharged from here tomorrow, and you don't feel ready,” Red finished with a nod of his own.

She tried to put her feelings into words. As had been the case since she woke up here, it wasn't easy. “It's like I don't remember how to do this anymore.” She gestured around at the room. “Any of it. And I don't even know why.”

He was silent for almost a full minute. When he spoke, there was a distant look in his eyes. “I don't know if you recall, Lizzie, but you asked me once, very soon after your first transformation, whether I've ever just lived in my true form, without worrying about any human concerns. I told you I have.”

“I think I do remember that. You didn't share any details.” She wasn't annoyed by this; after all, they hadn't known each other as father and daughter yet.

“No, I didn't.” He took a deep breath. “I have lived away from human society more than once. Most of those times were of very short duration. But there was one particular period of my life where I chose to flee and immerse myself in my true nature, once I had done what little I could do to track down my enemies.”

It didn't take Liz too long to guess what part of his life Red might be talking about. She held her breath. He discussed his past so rarely.

“Of course, in my case it was a choice,” her father continued, “whereas I gather you had very little in the way of options. But the result for me was similar: I spent my days with no concerns beyond the hunt, and where my next meal would come from. I was alone. And having started out this … self-imposed exile in the frame of mind in which I started it...” He trailed off, and shook his head. “Perhaps it was safest for me to be alone. But it did mean I had no one but myself to tell me when it was enough – when I should rejoin the world of humans.”

“How long?” she asked, when he didn't go on right away.

“Nearly a month,” he replied. “I never have been able to determine exactly how long, since I lost track of the days about halfway through. When I grew sick of spending my days in the wild, and I made my way back to civilization, I didn't recognize myself.” He gripped the arms of the plastic chair. “Physically, I was fine. I had lost weight, but the territory where I had hunted had more prey available than where you were located, so it wasn't extreme. It was other things that had changed. I craved contact with the few friends and associates I trusted, but it seemed I no longer knew how to relate to them. Of course, they knew--” he paused for a second, and swallowed, “what I had lost, as well, which didn't make it any easier to interact normally. But beyond that, it was like I couldn't quite get my instincts to surrender control to my rational mind. I responded to situations as if I was still my dragon self. It was highly disorienting.”

This sounded all too familiar to Liz. She waited for him to keep going, wondering how many details would be like her current situation.

“I already had access to enough money that I never had to worry about going hungry – and yet, in the apartment where I was staying at that time, I was stunned every time I opened the fridge or the pantry to find them stocked with food, readily available.” Red looked at her directly. “But although it was frustrating and disorienting to have these lingering effects, they did fade. My human self was still there, not lost for good.”

At this verbalization of the fear she hadn't even been able to put into words, Liz found it suddenly very hard not to give in to tears. Instead, she reached for his hand and held it tightly. _Thank you._

Red smiled and covered her hand with both of his. _You're going to be all right, Lizzie. I promise._

~  
That night, Liz went to sleep promptly enough, with Ressler at her side in the chair. She knew he was bound to be uncomfortable, if he wanted to get any sleep at all, but he assured her he would be fine. But it wasn't many hours after she had shut her eyes that the nightmare began. This one started with the fire, as so many others had in her life. Shortly after she found herself surrounded by darkness, smoke, and flickering flames, though, Liz saw that the house was destroyed – reduced to rubble – as well as being on fire. And she knew with a sudden jolt of pure terror that Ressler had been here. He had been in the other room. Liz struggled forward, feeling the heat press against her on all sides. She tried to call out his name but only managed to inhale a lungful of smoke. She coughed and tried again. No sound came out. Then someone seized her by the arms from behind, and she couldn't even scream as she was dragged bodily out of the burning house. Whoever held her, his grip on her arms was hard and unrelenting. No matter how she fought, it seemed to make no difference. It was the Cabal, she knew suddenly. They were taking her. And she was terribly sure that wherever they took her, she would never get out alive.

Eventually, she thrashed herself awake to find Ressler bending over her, a worried look in his eyes in the light of her bedside lamp. “Hey, you okay?”

Liz took several deep breaths, staring into his eyes. “Yeah,” she panted. “Bad dream.” The fear hadn't quite left her yet. “Don … would you tell me a story or something that has … nothing to do with any of this?”

He sat down, but scooted the chair a little closer. “Sure. Let me think of a good one.”

It wasn't the story itself so much that helped Liz calm down (though his tale of youthful foolishness involving a motorcycle that he didn't actually know how to drive was certainly funny and definitely unrelated to any of their present problems). It was more the fact that her partner was here with her, smiling as he reminisced. She needed this. She needed time with the man she loved that wasn't full of stress and anxiety. And from the way Don was looking at her, he'd needed this, too.

It wasn't easy, but after Don finished his story, Liz shared a little bit of what it had been like for her, alone in the cave as she fought to survive. Then Don climbed into the narrow bed so he could hold her in his arms, and she slept peacefully for the rest of the night.

The next morning was devoted to the process of getting ready to leave. The doctor gave Liz one last checkup and pronounced her fit to be discharged. Despite some lingering worries about her own mental state, Liz was glad to be leaving this place behind.

She was less glad when Samar told her, as they exited the building, that she couldn't stay after this. “I'm afraid I'll start to attract too much attention from my bosses if I don't return,” she said, with a regretful smile. “But I am glad you're doing better, Liz.”

Liz took Samar's hand in both of hers. “Thank you, for helping to find me and look after me these past few days,” she said. Then she smiled. “Maybe next time we meet up again, it can be somewhere other than a hospital.”

“I'd like that,” Samar replied sincerely. She rode with the group to the little airport on the military base, and then said her farewells to them all. Ressler and Red had assured Liz that her transportation was taken care of.

“So where are we going, anyway?” Liz asked, after Samar disappeared from view into another of the buildings at the airport. She hadn't even thought to ask before now, which was weird.

Her father, who was leading the way toward his jet, turned around briefly to smile. “On vacation, Lizzie. I think you and Donald will like the place.”

Vacation sounded good. Liz leaned into Ressler and sighed. “Okay.” Maybe she'd want more details later, or maybe not.

~


	8. Chapter 8

~~~~~~

Reddington had called ahead to warn his buddy, apparently, because the guards outside the hospital waved them through without even stopping them. The mini-convoy pulled up at the front of the building and a stretcher appeared seemingly from nowhere. Ressler jumped out to help move Liz onto it. Mr. Kaplan shifted the IV bag into the hands of one of the orderlies, and then she, Ressler, Samar, Dembe, and Reddington followed the stretcher inside.

Very quickly, Liz was whisked away into an OR. A nurse spoke to Reddington in polite, rapid Thai, and the man turned to the rest of them. “If I understand correctly, she needs minor surgery to drain, clean, and stitch the wound.”

“What about...” Ressler trailed off for a moment, swallowing. “They know she's been starving, too. Of course they can tell that.”

Reddington looked as ill as Ressler felt, for a moment. “Yes. The infection is the first priority, but they are aware of her need for IV nutrients, as well.”

An IV wouldn't be enough to counteract weeks of not enough food, Don knew. But they would get to that. “But they do think she'll be all right?”

The verdict seemed to be a tentative 'yes', currently. Reddington did add that his army friend had personally recommended this hospital for their skills as well as the security it would afford, so she was in good hands.

~~~~~~

Liz's recovery room wasn't very big, and Reddington had warned them all that she would likely not be ready to deal with a lot of people at once. Ressler supposed that made sense, after weeks of being alone. So he happened to be the only one in the room with her when she woke up after surgery.

He guessed no one could blame her for her first reaction being fear and confusion. But at least she recognized him, and seemed to believe him when he assured her she was safe. That seemed to be all she could handle in one sitting, though. She was unconscious again within minutes.

It was clear that her fever wasn't quite gone, either. A few hours later, he noticed her begin to struggle in her sleep, as if she was trying to get away from something. “Liz,” he said, not too loud, “you're all right. You're safe now.”

That didn't seem to have any effect. Her panicked movements continued, with her eyes rolling under her lids, and he winced when he saw her injured arm make contact with the bed. That had to hurt. He spoke louder this time. “Liz, it's okay. Wake up! You're having a bad dream.”

She stilled for just long enough for him to wonder if the dream was over, and then she screamed. Her arms and legs began to flail as if her life depended on it. His own heart in his throat, he stepped out of the room briefly to yell, “I need some help in here!” before returning to her bed. Reddington was the first to join him, with Mr. Kaplan and Samar close behind.

“Lizzie, my dear, you're safe now!” Reddington said. “But you'll hurt yourself if you don't calm down.”

Ressler thought he heard more footsteps approaching, but his focus was still on the terrified woman in front of him. There were tears on her face, and she hadn't stopped moving.

“Help me,” Liz mumbled, panting. Her eyelids fluttered. “I can't – I killed him, he's dead, why won't he just...?”

“We're all here to help,” Don said, around the lump in his throat. “Liz, can you wake up?”

At that, her eyes opened, but they were glassy and unfocused. Her gaze traveled the room without a sign of recognition. “What... how did I...?”

Someone said something in Thai behind Reddington, and he reluctantly moved aside to allow the nurse to enter. She took one look at Liz and said something sympathetic. Then she turned to Reddington and asked a question.

The man nodded, his expression still shaken. He spoke a few Thai words to her.

Meanwhile, Liz had at least stopped thrashing, although she was still not remotely calm. Her eyes were closed again. Her chest was still heaving with the effort of fighting off whatever threat her fevered mind had conjured.

The nurse took a syringe out of the little cabinet on the wall of the room. She filled it with something and injected it carefully into Liz's IV. Then she smiled at all of them, said something else in Thai, and left with a nod to Reddington that was almost a bow.

Ressler didn't have to ask what it was that the woman had administered. Seconds later, Liz had quieted completely. He sighed. “Have they said how much longer she's going to be delirious like this?”

“The fever should break by tomorrow, if she continues to respond well to the antibiotics,” said Reddington, his voice as tired as Ressler felt.

And thankfully, the next time there was any movement from Liz, she did seem better. She woke up, and though at first he thought her agitation might start up again, she seemed to listen to him when he told her she wasn't in danger. She was safe. He watched her meet his eyes, with recognition this time – and then she fell asleep again.

Even with the fever going down, Don started to get worried after a day or so at how quiet she was. It wasn't that she was unresponsive, or that he feared she wasn't fully present when he or the others spoke to her. He didn't think that was the issue. It was just that she kept her responses so minimal, and rarely initiated a conversation herself (either spoken or telepathically). That seemed unlike her.

The hospital had a strict schedule for feeding her, which he couldn't argue with. He didn't like to wake her when she was sleeping peacefully, but this meant that sometimes her meals had to take precedence over that. So on the second day that the fever had started to go down, when the nurse came in for the next of the small meals on the schedule, Ressler went to Liz's side. “Liz, it's time to eat. Are you hungry?”

She stirred and turned toward him before opening her eyes. “Hmm?”

“I said, are you hungry?”

She nodded, but didn't move or respond other than that.

He frowned, trying not to show his disquiet at her non-reaction. Then he cleared his throat. “Good, because they've brought you some food.”

She blinked, and her eyes widened. “Oh.” She sat up, seeing the cart as it was pushed into the room. The nurse gave her a cheerful greeting in Thai, and then unloaded the tray with its plate of rice and steamed vegetables, and a bowl of some kind of broth, plus a glass with what he thought was some kind of fortified milk drink. She set all the dishes onto the little table beside Liz's bed.

Don had watched Liz watch this whole process with her eyes still wide, and an unguarded expression of disbelief on her face. When the nurse was gone, she scooted over and picked up the spoon. The she shook her head just slightly, and started in on the soup.

He didn't remark on what he saw, not wanting to make her feel self-conscious, but it was difficult when what he wanted to do was break down at the thought that she was no longer used to being able to eat whenever she was hungry. And it was clear that she was also trying not to be so taken aback by something that should be a normal experience. Although he wished she would talk about it, instead of trying to fight through this readjustment silently, on her own – if that was what she was doing.

Finally, he knew he had to bring up her near-speechlessness with someone. The likely candidate was her father, in case this was some kind of dragon issue. It was evening, and Samar had stepped out of the room where Liz slept to join them for dinner. Reddington had just hung up the phone with one of his associates, and Ressler decided now was as good a time as ever.

“Am I the only one who's noticed how quiet Liz is acting? I can't get her to say more than a few words at a time,” he said, breaking their silence as they all ate grilled chicken and sticky rice on the wooden bench outside the room. “And it doesn't feel like she's zoning out a lot, or anything, but she barely talks.”

“I've noticed that, too,” said Samar. “She does listen, but it seems like replying takes her a lot of effort. And if you don't say something first, she's not going to, either.”

“I wouldn't necessarily say that's anything to worry about,” said Reddington smoothly. “Your attentiveness does you credit, but think of it from her perspective: she's just spent at least two weeks, if not more, completely isolated from anyone else. During that time, her entire focus had to be on the task of simply surviving from hour to hour. And now she's back with other people, and the urgency of her fight to survive is gone.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “With time to readjust, she will interact more normally. I would strongly suggest to you both not to push.”

“No, of course not,” said Don hastily. He wondered if Reddington might be speaking from his own experience. With a life as long as he'd hinted that he'd already lived, it was likely that he might have spent time living in dragon form, as well.

“I wasn't planning to, either,” said Samar. “I assumed it was at least partly from the trauma of everything she's been through.”

“Yes, that would certainly add to the effects,” Reddington agreed. “And naturally we will all be alert for signs that she needs help to work through this.”

Samar finished her food quickly and went back inside Liz's room. Ressler ate more slowly, trying to imagine what that kind of – almost culture shock, or was it more like reverse culture shock? Either way, he tried to picture what it might be like for his partner. Of course he had experience going through events that were so big, so personally earth-shattering, that it was hard to fathom how everyone else could just go on without noticing. He hoped that Liz would be able to talk about it at some point, even if talking wasn't big on her priority list right now.

Apart from that issue, which he did his best not to worry about, there was also the general question of her nutrition. He knew that her doctor and the nurses were more aware of how to help Liz's system readjust to normal amounts of food than he was – and he could see that they were invested in this process. Still, he couldn't help thinking she wasn't putting on any noticeable weight yet. And it still hurt him to see her so thin. Not that she wasn't still beautiful, because she was. She was here, and safe, and he hadn't gotten tired of the fact that he could look at her almost any time he wanted. But he worried.

When she was finally ready to talk about what had happened to her, Ressler's rage at the injustice of it returned full force. He was also retroactively terrified for her, finding herself in a strange country without so much as even the memory of who and what she was.

But she had chosen to tell him about it – well, him and Red. She didn't tell a smooth story, but hell, it was too intense of a story to simply recite. At least she felt safe enough to speak.

Apparently her feeling of safety was still a tentative thing, though. All it took was the slightest, thoughtless mention on his part of the time directly before Thailand, when she was missing, to send her right back into survival mode. He felt especially awful about that when she also went back to hardly speaking, even once she had stopped panicking. And, though she ate the next meal the nurses brought, she also stared at it incredulously, once again, before allowing herself to pick up the utensils, as she had before.

But during that night (Ressler didn't know if it was because of Reddington's army buddy that they were allowed to stay overnight, but he wasn't going to complain either way), when Liz awoke from a nightmare, she asked him, shakily, to talk about something unrelated to anything that had recently happened in their lives. And she listened while he told her about the first and only time he'd ever tried to drive a motorcycle.

She even laughed, briefly and very quietly, at the punchline. “Didn't your friend think you should have more than one lesson before taking his bike on the road?”

“We were both idiots,” said Don. The sound of her laughing had lightened his heart more than he would have thought possible, considering that she was still pale, and he could see by the single lamp he had switched on that the thin hospital blanket was still clutched tightly in her hands. “I guess I thought it had to be intuitive, or something.”

Liz smiled. “I actually had a ride on a motorbike when I first got here, but I've never tried driving one. I guess I won't ask you to teach me.”

“Probably not a good idea, no,” Don agreed. This was perfect. He had missed this easy banter so much. He had missed the way her eyes showed her laughter even when she wasn't making a sound, and how much those eyes could still take his breath away when they were fixed on him.

There was a pause, and Liz settled back down in her bed, turned so she was still looking at him. Then he guessed her thoughts might have been traveling along the same lines as his during this exchange, because she told him, “I missed you.” Her voice was low and wistful. “I missed you even when I... when I couldn't think of your name.”

Don swallowed. “I missed you, too. All the time.”

She yawned, but kept her eyes on him. “I was alone. And the thing was, it was okay for most of the day, because I'd be busy looking for food. There wasn't any time to think about anything else. That made it kind of easier, in a way. Or simpler, I guess.” Then she shuddered. “At night, though... especially if I was awake because I was hungry...”

He found that his heart could, in fact, break even further, as she started to cry. And even though the hospital bed was small, he needed to hold her. Avoiding her IV, he sat down next to her and she scooted to give him room. As soon as he was able to lie down, she had her arms around him and her face pressed into his chest. “Shh,” he said, and stroked her back gently. It was alarmingly easy to feel her ribs beneath the hospital gown.

But her ragged breaths slowed quickly. _I missed this, too. I mean, having you here with me like this._ Her mental voice was tired. _Being able to touch you._

“Me, too,” he whispered. Careful not to dislodge Liz, he stretched over and turned off the light. She still felt fragile in his arms, but he knew that wasn't the whole story. Even during a time of convalescence, she remained a force to be reckoned with. And he was certain that she always would be.

~~~~~~

They took Red's jet out of Thailand. Liz was so relieved to be gone that she didn't pay attention to what Red said about their destination. Before they landed, however, a thought struck her. Ressler was in the bathroom, so she stood and went to her father. “Hey, I should tell you that I got to try a mangosteen,” she said. “While I was at the temple. And you were right, when you told me about them – it was amazing.”

Red smiled, surprised. “Glad to hear it. I could wish that the rest of your time in Thailand had been as pleasant. It's a fascinating country.”

She grimaced. “Yeah. There were some parts I enjoyed, and I don't think I'll hold a grudge against the place as a whole. But I don't want to go back anytime soon, either.”

“Understandable,” Red agreed. “Maybe you'll be ready in a few years.”

Liz sighed, and ran a finger over her newest scar, on the underside of her left arm. It hadn't quite healed yet, though it was close. “But I guess I've had some pretty... unique experiences there. I bet the number of non-Thai people who've eaten water buffalo is much lower even than those who've tried mangosteens.”

Red's gaze moved from her face to her arm and back again, eyes widening. “Lizzie, is that how you were injured? In a confrontation with a water buffalo?”

She nodded, flushing. “If I hadn't already been going without food for a whole day before I took it on, I would have killed it with no problem. I'd done it before.”

“My dear, I'm not criticizing you – quite the opposite,” Red replied, shaking his head. “I've never been in a position to hunt one, but I have certainly noticed how intimidating those horns are. And I know that even farmers who have raised the creatures from calves have a healthy respect for the danger they can inflict.”

She noticed that Ressler had come up behind them, and wondered if he'd heard her whole explanation. “So what's the most dangerous animal you've hunted?” she asked.

He laughed. “Now, that is a story.”

Obligingly, Liz sat across from him and turned to raise her eyebrows at her partner. He rolled his eyes and sat next to her. “I'm listening. We both are.”

Red set up the story by explaining that he had been doing business in Kenya. The man he'd wanted to meet with had been out in one of the national parks, and it hadn't been until Red was sitting in the rented vehicle going to meet him that he had realized the man was on a safari. “Just a safari. This is a man who had lived in Kenya for a decade already. But apparently this was his first time, however that came to be true. Unfortunately for him, he didn't know that a dragon was following him.”

“Ah,” said Liz, chuckling as she caught on. “And I'm guessing this guy didn't see much wildlife, then?”

“By the time I reached him, the poor man reported that he saw one lion, off in the distance, that had vanished before he got close enough to take so much as one picture with his zoom-lens.” Red shrugged. “At least that meant he was ready to focus on business.”

“I thought you said this was a story about hunting,” Don pointed out, though he did look amused.

“I assure you, I'm getting to that,” said Red. “As I was saying, we took care of the deal I'd sought him out to obtain. But the meeting took place far enough out into the savanna that we all had to camp one night afterward.

“As you may know, it can get quite cold in that part of the world at night. Especially for us. When I woke the next morning and it finally started to get warm again, I decided I wanted to get the full benefit of the rising sun. Dembe was none too happy to come with me out by ourselves, but we went far enough out that I was certain no one would see, and I transformed.”

Liz smiled faintly, trying to imagine the red dragon in the African savanna with the sunrise framing him. The mental picture had its charms. “Sounds nice.”

His own nostalgic expression changed to a rueful one. “It was, until we both discovered that we had unwittingly invaded the territory of a large and aggressive bull hippo. Should you ever be in the same position, Lizzie, I can warn you from experience that they are one creature that has no qualms in attacking even a transformed dragon. Granted, this particular one went for Dembe first, but when I went to intercept him, he wasn't remotely deterred.”

“Red. I've only ever seen a hippo at the zoo, but those things have huge teeth!” This mental picture, on the other hand, gave her a chill.

“They do,” he said. “Which is why I had no other option but to kill this specimen, when he refused to leave us alone. And it was not an easy thing.”

“Didn't Dembe have a gun?” Don asked.

“Of course he did. But he would have required a high-powered rifle, apparently, to render this beast harmless.”

Liz tried not to flinch, since she had experience of far too personal a nature with that kind of weapon. To distract herself from those thoughts, she said, “So it was up to you.”

Red nodded. “And lest you quibble with my categorization again, Donald, I did eat it after I killed it, so I didn't mislead you as to the nature of this story. Normally, I wouldn't have gone after an animal whose conservation status is threatened, but as I had no choice but to end its life, I didn't want it to go to waste.”

“Right,” said Ressler, in his 'I can't believe this is normal conversation' voice.

She nudged his shoulder with hers and grinned at him sympathetically, before turning back to her father. “What did the guy you were meeting with say about the dead hippo? Or were you able to keep the others from finding out?”

The rest of the story lasted until they were about to land. They didn't spend enough time in whatever place the air field was for Liz to care to find out where it was. From there, they traveled by boat to an island. The beach was so breathtakingly gorgeous that it was unreal. It was the cliched island getaway, and since it belonged to Red, their party had it completely to themselves. He had insisted that Liz needed a proper vacation after her ordeal. Of course, she also knew he wouldn't be ready to let her out of his sight until he was sure she felt more like herself.


	9. Chapter 9

Red's vacation spot was relaxing – undeniably so. The only people around were people she trusted, whom she knew cared about her. The cabins each had a well-stocked kitchenette, and the entire island had its own water supply which meant the tap water was potable. Plus, of course, the weather was perfect. There was enough wind off the ocean for the non-dragons not to get overheated, and the near-constant sun put both her and her father in pleasant moods.

The second morning, after Liz had flown the entire circumference of the island, she saw Red landing at the beach closest to the cabin where he had chosen to stay. Don wasn't close by, and Dembe was off on some errand for Red, so she decided to take the chance to talk to him about a question that had actually first come to mind while she and Don had still been in New Zealand. She landed next to him. Good morning.

_Good morning, Lizzie. How was your flight?_

_I have to say, I could get used to views like these,_ she said, stretching her wings to their limit before folding them. _It's so beautiful here that it seems ridiculous to even say it._

He laughed lightly. _I know what you mean._ Then he regarded her closely. _And you're feeling all right?_

 _Yes,_ she said patiently. _I'm not overdoing it, I promise._

 _Good,_ was his reply. _You look better._

 _Thanks,_ she said. She knew what he was referring to – the first time she had transformed again after being discharged from the hospital, she had been taken aback by the relative dullness of her scales compared to how she knew she usually looked. And that had been after several days of safety and enough food. She didn't want to think how she must have looked when they had found her in that cave. _Red, there's something I've been wanting to ask you._

_What is it?_

She took a deep breath, and then met his eyes. _How much did Sam know? About you, and... and about me?_

Red turned to watch the waves come in for several seconds. _Lizzie, Sam was my lieutenant for years. Much longer than Dembe has held that position. When I first brought him in, it was for the same reason you originally brought Donald in – he was my friend, and he was getting too close to the truth, and I was tired of lying to him._

Liz reminded herself to breathe. She knew she would be tearing up if she were in human form. _What did he think?_

Red's tone was fond. _He called me a bastard for keeping something so important a secret from him for so long. And then he asked me if I could breathe fire._

Liz laughed. She wanted to hear everything, but there was still so much about that point in history that she didn't know. It would be a very long story. For now, though she thought she knew the answer already, she asked, _When did he stop? Acting as your lieutenant, I mean?_

He turned his gaze to her. _He didn't disappear with me when I became a fugitive, as I'm sure you've guessed. There were other facets of my business he took care of without having to become a criminal in the US government's eyes. But he was still my lieutenant until I asked him to do another task. One that was much more important than anything else I had ever asked him._

She nodded, her throat closing. _So, then, he would have known – he would have expected – ?_

 _Yes,_ said Red. _If things had progressed differently, Sam very well might have been the one to call on me, to make sure I re-entered your life before your first transformation. I told him what to look for, and approximately how old you would be._

Liz sighed. She could sense Ressler several yards away now, curious but willing to let them have their privacy. She wondered what it would have been like, if she had first heard about all of this from the man she knew as her dad. Would she have believed him? Would it have made her feel any less totally bewildered? _I still... Even after all these years, I still find myself thinking that I should call him, that we should catch up because there's so much to tell him about._ No doubt it would hurt Red to hear this, but it was true and she had to say it.

Red closed his eyes for a moment. _I miss him, too._

And she knew he did. Attempting to truly understand why Red had done what he had was still too disturbing and painful – and this new information only made it more complex. Nonetheless, Liz thought that overall, she was glad she knew this about the man who had raised her. It was odd to imagine Sam and Red interacting in this world, with that kind of relationship. It was mostly a good kind of odd, though.

 _I may not have the right to say this, but I believe he would be proud of you,_ Red said.

It was Liz's turn to stare out into the surf. The tide was coming in, and the tips of her claws were getting wet. Part of her still ached and resented Red for taking away her last chance to speak to Sam. Part of her probably always would. On the other hand, she didn't want to think too hard about what life would have been like for him, undeniably dying slowly and painfully, as Liz's world exploded and affected everyone around her. As for him being proud of her, she had no idea. Just because she wasn't actually a traitor didn't mean her current situation was something anyone could be proud of. _I hope you're right,_ was all she said, before she turned, changed, and walked toward Ressler.

~~~~~~

Liz was aware that Don and Red had something going on that they didn't want to talk to her about. By that fact alone, she could guess it was some kind of follow-up from her captivity. She knew she had the option of insisting on being brought in. But this was supposed to be a vacation – even if Red and Don apparently didn't mind ducking out on it a few times. She didn't like being unaware of significant happenings.

Still, the next time Don returned from one of his secret missions, Liz opened her mouth to ask what he'd been doing. Instead, what she said was, “Are you all right?” His expression was grim.

But the smile that took over when he looked at her seemed genuine enough. “Yeah. I'm fine. Don't worry about it.”

“You'd tell me, though? You and Red, you'd tell me if there was anything I needed to worry about, right?” She sat up from where she had been lying in the hammock outside their cabin.

Several expressions passed over his face. “I would. You know I'm not just saying that.”

She watched him for a few seconds, then nodded. He knew how much she hated it when Red (or anyone else, but it was usually Red) kept secrets from her that directly applied to her, even if it was supposed to be for her safety. “Fine. I trust you. But I'll probably ask you to tell me later, when I'm not on vacation.”

It was his turn to nod. “I can live with that," he said. Then he took a few steps closer. “Is there room for two in that hammock?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You're just trying to distract me now.”

He grinned. “Yep.” Then, as she did her best to try to give him room, he attempted to climb in with her.

She shrieked, and a second later, they were both on the ground, as the hammock flipped and dumped them. Somehow, she ended up mostly on top of him. “Nice going, genius,” she groused, but the effect was probably spoiled when she kissed him.

He deepened the kiss and reached up to put his hands in her hair, making a sound of approval.

She hummed in response, and then noticed something and pulled back. “Don, you just shoveled sand into my hair.” She ran her own hands through it. “Ugh, I hate that feeling.”

“Oops,” he said, shrugging.

“Guess I'll have to go wash it out,” she said, and rolled off him.

“I can help you out with that,” Don offered.

“Yeah, because you've been so helpful in these past few minutes,” she returned, but grinned. “Come on, partner. The water's not getting any more perfect.” She stood and tugged his hand until he was upright, too. As they walked toward the water's edge, still holding hands, Liz decided that she really was all right with hearing about what Don and Red were doing at some other point. For the moment, taking advantage of this vacation was more important.

~~~~~~

A little while after Liz had shared her determination with the group of them to thank the people who had helped her while she was in Thailand, Red and Ressler informed her of another person who was involved: the cousin of Whitney's who had apparently been involved in freeing her from the Cabal's clutches in the first place. “It may be more difficult to thank him than the other people who helped you, however,” Red said. “It sounded from how this man spoke that he may be inside the Cabal.”

“Does that mean Whitney is in danger? And does she know I'm all right, now?” Liz unconsciously crossed her arms. She did want to pass on her thanks to this cousin, but she didn't want to endanger herself, him, or Whitney in doing so.

“We'll run a check on Whitney's security,” said Don. “I haven't heard any news, though. Also, it seemed like he and she hadn't exchanged a lot of details, which is good. But I will go ahead and send her a message that you're okay – I forgot until you mentioned it.”

“Good,” said Liz. “But I don't think... I don't want to talk to this guy in person, even if it would be safe.” She felt goosebumps on her skin all of a sudden.

“Lizzie, you don't have to do anything you don't want to,” said Red. “Perhaps we can just suggest to Whitney that her cousin was helpful, and allow her to discreetly pass on our gratitude. That way you don't have to have any direct contact with someone who was involved with that time.”

Liz nodded. She was glad she didn't have to explain why the idea bothered her. It was more the chance that seeing this man would cause her to remember – and anything that was so horrible that despite the rest of her memory returning, she had still blotted it out? That seemed like something that she would prefer stayed forgotten.

But when the mention of that time was evidently enough to cause nightmares that night, she wasn't alone. Don woke her before the dark images reached their terrifying climax, and when she sat up, gasping, he was there to chase them away. “Shh, Liz. You're safe. It was just a dream.” He ran his hands down her arms.

“I think... I think I was back wherever they had me,” she whispered, throat tightening. “I don't want to remember.” She sniffed and ducked her head. “Maybe I'm a coward, but I'm glad I don't remember.” When she had decided earlier not to press for details about what he and her father had been up to, it had been easy to tell herself it was for her own mental health. But maybe she was just taking the easy way out.

“Honey,” he said, drawing her into his arms and kissing her hair, “I'm glad you can't remember, too. There's nothing cowardly about it.”

“Yeah?” She put her arms around him. “Then I wish I was sure it wouldn't come back.”

“If it comes back, we'll deal with it,” said Don. “And I'll still be here, and you'll still have gotten through it. Okay?”

 _You'd better still be here,_ she said silently. She could hear his heartbeat through his shirt. The sound plus the feel of his arms around her was incredibly soothing. All trace of panic had faded by now.

“It would help if you didn't get kidnapped again, though,” he said, his tone light although he gripped her just a bit tighter as he spoke.

She huffed out a breath. _Yeah, I guess it would. We'll have to work on that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter was a bit on the short side, but it felt like a necessary interlude between the action.


	10. Chapter 10

~  
Don was inexpressibly relieved when Liz slept solidly through the first night in their cabin on the beach. She had seemed more like herself as they left Thailand behind, though still more withdrawn than she often was when they traveled. She had been awake for almost all of the flight – to whatever South Pacific island Red had taken them to – which was a little bit worrisome to Don. But her smile of pleasure upon arriving at their vacation spot had been genuine, and she'd been downright playful as she pulled him along to see what their stretch of beach looked like.

The following morning, Liz didn't stir even when he eventually had to get up to use the bathroom. When he came back into their room, she stretched, yawned, and then put out a hand to where he'd been on the other side of the bed. “Don?” she mumbled.

“I'm right here,” he told her, climbing back in next to her. “You want to try to go back to sleep, or are you ready to get up?”

She found his hand, and took it in hers. “What time is it?”

Ressler fumbled around on the nightstand until he found his phone with his other hand. “Uh, nine thirty. In this time zone, which is only a few hours off from Thailand, I think.”

“Okay.” She sat up, yawning again. “Then I want to get up. I'm hungry.”

After what she'd just been through, Ressler was very much in favor of Liz eating whenever she wanted – and besides, now that she had mentioned it, he was hungry, too. The two of them changed into clothes that were more suitable for being outside of their private cabin, and walked the short distance to the little cafe/shop that was the only other structure on the island, besides the other cabin where Red and Dembe were staying. Red had said yesterday that it was kind of self-serve at the moment. They had all eaten dinner there. Ressler was about to get Liz and himself a cup of coffee from the coffee maker (Red must have already been there this morning, since the machine was set to warm and the pot was half-full) when Liz put a hand on his arm. “Sit.” She smiled. “What do you want for breakfast? I want to get it for you.”

“Liz,” he protested.

“No, I mean it, Don,” she said, pushing him gently toward one of the two tables. “You've done so much for me lately – and I know it's because you want to, you don't have to convince me of that – but now I want to do just this little thing for you.”

Don found that he didn't have words to reply to that. So instead, after an unsteady breath, he took her face in both of his hands and kissed her once, gently. Then he sat down at the table. “Coffee and a couple of those toaster waffles I think I saw back there sounds good.”

“Coming right up.”

That afternoon, Liz decided she wanted to try transforming, for the first time since she had been stuck in the cave. Ressler tried not to be worried that her doing so would cause some kind of traumatic flashbacks or the like. After all, it wasn't as if it was a good idea for her to avoid her dragon shape for the rest of her life, just because bad things had happened to her in it. Still, he would hate to see her regress in her recovery at all.

But at least if transforming did cause her to relive some of her trauma, he told himself, this place looked very little like the place she had been trapped. And no one here would try to confine her. Plus, she wouldn't be alone.

As it turned out, though she was disturbed by the fact that her scales were still lacking their usual sheen (they had at least improved since the last time Don saw them), Liz seemed to find her first flight around the island nothing but refreshing and relaxing. There was no animal life worth hunting, but that didn't bother her. She was happy to sun herself on the beach, above the high tide mark, and Don was content to sit in the shade nearby and read a book. His thoughts returned a few times to the small jewelry box he had hidden in his suitcase, and he smiled each time. They all needed some space to simply relax and breathe – but once he and Liz were settled in their next location, he thought the time would be right.

One evening a few days later, they were all finishing up a simple but delicious dinner of barbecued fish fresh from the ocean. They were outside, enjoying the breeze off the water. None of them had been particularly chatty throughout the whole meal, though Reddington had shared a few stories about fishing experiences he'd had.

Toward the end of the meal, though, Liz had gone from quiet to withdrawn. Ressler tried not to worry that she was reverting back to how she had been in the hospital in Thailand. After all, everyone had periods of time where they just needed to think quietly. She had to have plenty left to process, too.

Right now she was flipping a silver coin from knuckle to knuckle, Don noted, while she sat back in her chair that she had turned to face the surf. He wasn't sure where she'd gotten the coin, since she wouldn't have had to buy anything for a while.

Abruptly, Liz sat forward and said, “Red. Don. I – I want to ask for your help with something.”

“Certainly, Lizzie,” said Red immediately, setting aside the novel he had brought with him.

“What do you need?” Don asked. He reached out to lay his arm on the back of her chair.

Liz stopped moving the coin, and looked at it in her palm for a few moments. She looked out at the waves again.

When she stayed silent at first, Red prompted her gently. “That's a five-baht coin, I believe, isn't it? Are you thinking about something you experienced in Thailand?”

She nodded. “There were two – maybe three groups of people who helped me,” she said. “I want to do something to repay them, if I can.”

Don exchanged glances with Liz's father. There was still plenty that they didn't know about her time in Thailand prior to the cave.

Reddington nodded slightly, but all he said to Liz was, “Then you'd like help tracking these people down?”

“Yeah.” Liz frowned. “And I don't know much about some of them. The family who – who helped me right after I woke up with amnesia, all I know about them is that the woman's name was Fon, and her son's nickname was Kham. He spoke very good English, worked for an IT company, and drove me from his parents' house to the hospital in Khon Kaen.”

“And approximately how long did it take for you to get to the hospital?” asked Reddington. By dint of direct but non-intrusive questions like this, he got as complete of a picture as possible of the woman who had found Liz. Ressler felt ill when they learned that this woman had almost literally found her by the side of the road. Beyond that, he wasn't sure this information would be enough to find them. Still, he was very willing to do whatever he could to assist. After all, this woman and her family had helped Liz when she was at her most vulnerable.

The next people on Liz's mind were the telepath boy and his mother who had found her in Khon Kaen, after she had fled from the hospital. Liz said the boy had said his uncle was one of the senior monks at the temple where they had taken her.

“Well, there are of course a very large number of temples in Thailand,” said Reddington, “but the general location still gives us a place to start.”

Liz nodded. “It wasn't as big as some of the temples I saw pictures of, or the one I saw on TV. Oh, wait!” She sat forward. “There was an English guy who lived there, a young guy who spoke fluent Thai. His name was Daniel. He wasn't a monk in training, but he lived at the temple and actually helped them … look after me, I guess you could say. That should narrow it down a fair amount, right?”

Red smiled. “A Brit in a Buddhist temple in Northeast Thailand? Yes, I'm sure he and the temple won't be too hard to locate. Easier, most likely, than the family who helped you first.”

“The hospital records that Samar found might be a little bit of help in tracking down the guy who drove you there, too,” Ressler pointed out. He wasn't changing the subject because he was jealous of this Daniel guy that Liz had just barely mentioned. He definitely wasn't.

“Perhaps, although they were woefully incomplete,” said Reddington. “If they had been a little less sparse, we could have found you sooner,” he added to Liz with a frown.

“Well, I'm sure it didn't help that I ran out of there as soon as I could.” Her expression grew distant again for a few seconds, and then she shook her head. “Anyway. Those are the people I want to find, if we can.”

“The family who helped you right after you woke up, the telepath family, and … this Daniel?”

Liz nodded at Reddington's words. “I don't-- I mean, I know any gift I gave would have to be anonymous. But still.”

“Yes, you'll have to be careful, but that doesn't mean it's a bad idea.” Her father smiled. “In fact, it's very thoughtful.”

Ressler agreed. “And with the four of us working on it, it'll happen. But I vote we wait a few more days before we get started looking.”

Liz allowed that she was fine with them finishing their vacation first.

Despite this statement, Ressler was not actually displeased when Red took him aside the next morning with a topic that was not one for relaxation. Liz was sunbathing on the beach again, this time in human form. She raised her sunglasses and murmured a sleepy okay when he told her he was stepping away to talk to Red.

_Donald_ , the man said, and Don got the feeling he was keeping this a private conversation, _Dembe just sent word that he's had success in hunting down some of the men who were staffing the prison where Lizzie was being held after her kidnapping._

Don's eyes widened, and he shot a glance over his shoulder. But Liz was still lying on her beach towel, evidently not aware of his churning emotions. As he tried to keep it that way, Don said in a low voice, “Where's he going to take them?”

_It just so happens that I have a yacht available to me, not too far offshore_ , Red replied. He paused, and regarded Don evenly. _I thought I would ask if you were interested in participating in their interrogation, in the spirit of sharing – and also since it is still part of your job description._

Don glanced over his shoulder again. Liz was still asleep, or almost there. He hoped she remained unaware of the rage that returned immediately when he thought back to how she had looked when they had first gotten her out of that cave … how traumatized and lost she had been during her recovery in the hospital … and those terrible pictures that Red had received that had put them on the path toward Thailand. Whatever had happened to her then, just mentioning that time period had been enough to nearly overwhelm Liz with fear, only a few days ago. “I-- I don't want to leave her alone,” was all he said out loud in response. He was sure Red knew what kinds of thoughts were going through his head just then.

_Dembe can take you to the yacht via motorboat. It will be at the dock_ , Red said. It was his turn to glance toward where Liz lay. _I'll stay here until you're finished. She won't be alone._

“All right. But...” He trailed off, and at Red's questioning look, he sighed and went on quietly, “You'd be able to interrogate them much more effectively than I would. Or at least, much faster.”

The dragon nodded. _That's true, Donald, but I think we both know this is not only about what would be the most efficient means of obtaining information from these men._ He paused, and when Don swallowed and acknowledged this, he went on, _Besides, now that you're free of any FBI regulations, I expect you'll have no trouble getting what you need from them._

This had already occurred to Don. He wondered if he should be disturbed by that fact. “Okay,” he said, after another moment. “Let me just tell her I'll be back soon.”

Dembe arrived at the dock a few minutes later. He nodded to Don as Don got onboard the boat, but didn't speak until they pulled up alongside Red's yacht, some distance offshore. “I located two men,” he said, as they climbed onboard the larger craft. “I'll take you to them.”

“Have they given you anything so far?”

“No, other than denials of guilt,” Dembe replied with a shake of his head.

Several men who Ressler recognized as part of Red's organization nodded to them both as Dembe led him through the luxurious main deck, downstairs, into a room that looked like it maybe had been a bedroom before being converted into an interrogation room. Ressler snorted. Leave it to Red to have an interrogation room installed on his yacht.

“I will be outside here,” Dembe said, when they were standing in front of the door. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” Don took a breath. All the things these men might have been party to flashed through his mind again, and he knew he could use the resulting rage in a variety of ways with the two men inside the room. He knew neither Dembe nor Red would protest if he killed them. But he wasn't planning to go that far. After all, Liz was still alive, and recovering. This wasn't Audrey again. And besides, if he were honest with himself, he knew Red would make certain they didn't get out of here alive. Reddington had a long-standing practice of executing anyone who made a move against him or Liz. The only real question was whether he would make it slow or quick. That would depend at least partly, Don supposed, on what he discovered right now.

When he entered the room and shut the door behind him, the two men, each cuffed to their chairs, looked up at him. Neither one of them was familiar, and neither of them appeared to recognize Ressler at first. “So which one of you is going to do the smart thing and tell me everything you know about who ordered the capture of Elizabeth Keen?” he said.

The prisoners glanced at each other but didn't speak. One of them, the blond guy on the left who seemed to be a few years older than his Asian partner, got a knowing look on his face – not to say mocking. Don focused on him. “You look like you have something you want to say,” he said, sitting down and pulling the chair closer to him. “Why don't you go ahead?”

Smirking, the guy said, “You're her former partner, aren't you? Ressler? The G-Man she talked about a couple of times.”

Ressler's blood boiled. He gripped the edge of the table without showing any other outward reaction. “You interacted with her while she was held in that cell?”

“Uh huh.” The smugness hadn't faded.

“Shut up, man,” the other guy said then, urgently. He had been watching Ressler this whole time.

“No, please, keep going,” Ressler said. He was outwardly calm, while on the inside, he tried to prepare himself for what this man might tell him about Liz's experience in captivity.

“She started out in a different room when they first brought her in, so they could make sure she was all right after the explosion,” the smug guy said. “But once they saw she was fine, they wanted her locked up in chains in that little cell the rest of the time. Gagged, too, for some reason. Not that I had a problem with not having to listen to her beg.”

So this guy, at least, didn't know Liz was a dragon. On the other hand, he seemed to know a lot of detail about Liz's captivity. Don's suspicion that he was one of the guards grew – as did his anger. But he tried to stay focused on the primary goal for the moment. “Tell me who 'they' were. Who was in charge?”

“You don't want to hear about what I did to your girlfriend while she was chained up?” He shrugged, as much as he was able while his arms were cuffed behind him. “Or maybe it doesn't matter to you.”

At that, the other guy leaned forward and hissed, “Seriously, Blake, shut up! You're not helping!”

But Don had had enough. He stood up, slowly, and walked around so that he was standing right next to Blake. “You know, you mentioned that I used to be an FBI agent,” he said, almost casually. “That's true, and it also implies you know I've been on the run with Elizabeth for quite a while now. Getting close to a year. I had a great career with the Bureau before that, which I gave up so I could be with her. And I'd do it all again.”

“Touching,” said Blake with a scoff. “What's your point?”

“My point is, I'm not with the Bureau anymore. The rules are a little different now, and so are my motivations,” Don said. Then he slammed the man's head down face first onto the table, holding it there as he leaned down close. “So maybe you want to be a little more careful about how you talk to me. And you should start answering my questions.”

Blake yelled and struggled, but Don didn't let up. The angle he was holding him down, plus the tension exerted by the cuffs on his wrists behind the chair back, had to be very unpleasant.

“Let me up! Shit, I think you broke my nose! Come on, man, let me up!”

“I'm not hearing any answers,” said Don, pressing down a little harder. Behind Blake, the other guy was watching with wide eyes. Having someone else watching this, even another prisoner, might have once bothered Don – but it didn't right now.

Shouting again, Blake struggled harder, with no effect. Finally, he said, “All right, all right! I've got some names. Not very many, but a few. Just let me up!”

After a little more encouragement, Blake gave up a few names and descriptions of his superiors at the prison site. He also confessed to having been one of the four guards in charge of Liz. Among his duties had been to give the prisoner water once a day (no food), and administer an injection of some drug whenever the interrogators wanted to start a session with her. Blake had never been present during these sessions, but he knew they left her confused and distressed. It had been after one of them, when he was putting her gag back on, that she had said Ressler's name.

Don had told himself he wouldn't kill these two men, unarmed and at his mercy as they were. For one thing, he didn't want to imagine Liz's reaction to that news if she found out, which she probably would. But Blake's words sorely tested his resolution. The mental picture that he could call up all too easily of a drugged, confused Liz, having just undergone some form of torture and interrogation and calling out for him, was enough to make him consider reaching for his gun. In the end, though, before he moved on to the other guy (who hadn't spoken a word in the last ten minutes), he decided he would tell Reddington all of these details and let him decide what to do to Blake. Past experience suggested that Don might or might not want to be present when Red enacted his idea of justice.

He knocked on the inside of the door to the room then, and opened it. Dembe had come over. “I'm done with this guy,” Don told him, pointing at Blake. “Red will need to know what he told me.” Clenching his fists, Don couldn't resist meeting the prisoner's alarmed gaze. “I'd ask if there's someone here who could give him some first aid after moving him to another room, but I don't see the point, in the long run.”

“What?!” Blake's eyes widened. “In the long run you-- But I just told you everything I know! Come on, man!”

“It's a good thing you did, too,” Don said. “It's going to be helpful, and it might make the man who owns this boat consider putting you down a little less painfully. But then again, when I tell him what you did to his daughter, maybe not.” He crossed the room again, to get into his face. “After all, I barely held back myself.”

Blake's face paled under his bruises, and the other guy swore under his breath. For his part, Dembe just stayed silent (unsurprisingly) as he hauled Blake out of the room.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Don sat down in front of the other guy. “Okay. Let's start with your name.”

But the guy was shaking his head and swallowing. “This woman, Elizabeth Keen – she's Raymond Reddington's daughter?”

Ressler almost laughed. “Haven't you kept up with the news? It's not exactly a secret.”

“Oh, God.” The other man ran a hand over his face and looked down at the table in front of him. Then he raised his eyes to Don's. “Oliver. My name is Oliver. I … oh, God.” He dropped his gaze again. “I was in charge of surveillance. I had to flee as soon as Keen escaped, since I knew my bosses weren't going to be happy I'd let it happen.”

The phrase “Out of the frying pan...” came to Ressler's mind. He smirked. “Well, Oliver, I hate to tell you, but you're not in any better shape now than you would have been if your bosses had caught you.”

“Yeah. I'll tell you what I know,” said Oliver. He looked so miserable that Ressler almost – _almost_ felt sorry for him. Until he reminded himself that if this guy was in charge of surveillance at the prison, that probably meant he had watched everything that happened to Liz (or at least had been able to watch, even if he hadn't chosen to do so). And he hadn't done anything to stop it, or to help Liz. Any hint of pity vanished. Still, according to what he said, Oliver had never laid a hand on her or directly harmed her. If that was true, it was a small point in his favor.

While the information he had learned from both of the men was still fresh in his mind, Ressler called Red from the deck of the yacht. The dragon listened to everything Ressler said without interrupting. Then he said, “It sounds like you had a fruitful couple of hours with our guests. Thank you for the comprehensive update.”

Don looked out over the rail of the boat toward the island. “How's Liz?”

“She's fine, Donald. She's now making use of the hammock outside your cabin.”

“All right.” He took a breath. “Keep me in the loop while you track down the rest of these people, would you?”

“Of course,” Red replied. “Now, if you're finished for the time being, I believe I'll take a turn once you've come back ashore.”

“I'll be there in a few minutes.”

When he got back to the island, Red was standing at the dock, dressed in his usual business attire and hat instead of the more casual clothes he'd been wearing since they had gotten here. But of course that made sense. Ressler thanked Dembe, who nodded, and then he got out of the motorboat. 

“Are you going to be at all upset or disappointed if my actions now mean that you won't have another crack at these two men, Donald?” Red asked, making no move to get into the boat right away.

“I'm already upset,” said Don. Any time he remembered what Blake had described of Liz's situation at the prison site, he started to regret having left him alive. “But not about that, and no, I don't need this dragged out. I just need to know that we're going to take down everyone who was involved with this.”

Perhaps Reddington was also thinking about what Blake had said (which Don had told him), because his eyes went hard and cold. “That is an outcome I can guarantee.”

Liz didn't pry too much into what he had been up to this afternoon. She did, however, want him to know that she would be asking later, once they were done with their vacation. That was not a surprise. Don agreed, and they passed from that topic onto more pleasant ones.

Don woke up insanely early the next morning – well before sunrise. Liz had had a nightmare earlier, which he had woken her out of, and now it felt like he had maybe had one of his own. He couldn't recall any details except the lingering fear, grief, and rage. It wasn't too hard to guess what kinds of things he had dreamed.

With a ragged breath, Don sat up and looked over at his partner. She was turned away from him in the bed, still asleep. Her breathing was the only sound he could hear, apart from his pounding heartbeat and the waves crashing against the shore outside. She was here now, he told himself. She was no longer missing or in danger.

His heart rate slowed to normal, but Don found himself unable to relax into sleep again. After her kidnapping, it had been go, go, go until they had found any sign of Liz, and then until they finally found her and started her recovery. He'd had very little time to work through this whole thing for himself. And when they'd gotten here, he hadn't wanted to process it. All he'd wanted was to spend time with Liz when neither of them were in pain or distressed.

Sighing, Don got up as quietly as he could and went to stand out on their deck. The air was cool and pleasant, and the sound of the ocean waves breaking on the beach was soothing. He leaned on the railing and tried to let himself really relax. He needed to let go of the anxiety and trauma of the last several weeks.

Unfortunately, that ended up meaning he had to face the fact that they had almost lost her. _He_ had almost lost her. Sure, it wasn't like he had been able to avoid considering that possibility while she was missing, but even when she had been so sick and weak when they'd found her, she was alive. That could have so easily not been the case, though. There were a myriad of ways that she could have ended up dead. He didn't want to think too much about what his life would be like now, if any of those things had happened.

“Don?”

He turned around, hastily wiping away the tears that were threatening to fall. Liz was standing in the doorway, looking barely awake in the glow of their little outside light. Evidently she had grabbed the thin blanket from the foot of their bed, and she now had it wrapped around her as she blinked at him.

“Sorry. Uh,” he said. His voice shook a little, and he cleared his throat. “I didn't mean to wake you up.”

She shook her head, and then came over to him and put her arms around him. “I already woke you up before this. Don't apologize.”

Don put his arms around her as well, drawing her as close as he could. He shut his eyes and breathed her in, finally feeling some measure of peace return. They were going to be all right.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read, commented, and left kudos! We appreciate all of you.  
> And just so you know, this series is not over yet.


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